Wonderland
by MercuryM
Summary: Having a tête-à-tête with Luna was always weird in a strangely good way but even Harry couldn't predict where one of those conversations would lead him. Then again, it was Luna so he shouldn't have been so surprised. Collection of one-shots following various themes and pairings, filled with wonder and mischievousness.
1. Moon Mother

**Theme: **hope**  
Pairing: **Harry/Daphne; one-sided Ginny/Harry, Ginny/Dean **  
Rating: **T**  
Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or the song lyrics from Soulmate by Natasha Bedingfield**.  
****Warning(s):**Err … Ginny bashing? A little bit?  
**A/N&Disclaimer#2: **As it is a reviewer said that this story is a rip off and that credit should be given in that case. So, without further ado here come the things that had inspired me in some way and somehow affected this story. Firstly, I would say that it began with Celtic Oak, a wonderful Naruto writer. That inspiration came in the form of prompt table I'm using to write this collection. Thus, I owe the idea to not come up with my own themes to her and to the livejournal community that posted that table. For those of you wondering I'm using the 30 prompt table A. Secondly, I was inspired by paws-bells, another great Naruto writer; she made me think that maybe I'm able to write fluff at least little bit like she does. Let me tell you, it ain't happening any time soon. Another inspiration would be that Suzanna and her boyfriend(whose name I totally forgot) video that surfed parts of facebook a couple of months ago; they looked ridiculously happy and in love with each other and affectionate to no end. Well I tried to portray some couples like that but do I suck at writing pure fluff; those unfortunate half-done stories sit somewhere in the depths of my pc and I'm ashamed to even try and revise them. I'm trying to work on my romance skills. Another writer that somehow has a hand in helping this story along would be GrandeVanillaSkimLatte; I'm sure you all know of her. Her help came in the form that she writes about couples that are non-cannon and she makes it seem very realistic and believable. That's why every one-shot is a different couple and not one couple but with different situations. Add to this list even WeasleyForMe. And yes, I'm aware that they write Hermione/somebody and not Harry/somebody. The reason why I started writing one-shots was because I needed a stress reliever in some form and turns out that writing stuff helps me; also, I wanted to make my friend, who ships only DMHG and nothing else, to try and read something else. Yeah, let's say that I'm not very successful in that either. Anyways, I got off topic. The story of which _Wonderland_ is a rip-off, according to the reviewer, is _Chansing Chaos_ by Elle Roche. I went over the story and yes, I agree that there are some similarities between the two collection. Especially when it comes to this first one-shot and somewhat to my Harry and Narcissa one, which I find very annoying because I'm not happy with that fact but I do acknowledge it. But in my opinion there are more differences than similarities. Of course, you're free to disagree with me. For an example Elle's world is more... protocol based and she really pays attention to what a pureblood really means. Also, she pairs Harry with male characters and turns one of them into female. There's nothing wrong with that but I don't do that because I think it takes too much out of the character. Nevertheless, lets just add Elle to this huge inspirational rant and say that Elle rocks and I promise to try and write differently from her from now on. I'm not a saint, I'm bound to make mistakes and come up with scenarios that somebody had already used. With this I find the discussion over but if you feel that I should add more credit to some story or author fell free to say so. The list is huge as it is, why not add more to it. So, yeah, the end. Oh, and go check the awesome people I mentioned; they are awesome for a reason after all ;) -M.  
**A/N:** First, I want to say that this will be IRREGULARLY updated. I do not have a schedule for this collection and I will add chapters as it comes. The pairings will be different but I think that they'll mostly be Harry/somebody. As it is I have no idea why am I even starting this collection as I'm busy with university exams but it wouldn't leave me alone until I decided to post it. Oh, well ;] **  
Summary: **She was in love with a person that was deeply in love with another person that was blissfully happy with a third person. Or so she thought.

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**Moon Mother  
**One-shot

_Who doesn't long for someone to hold  
Who knows how to love you without being told_

_Did the Moon Mother hate her?_

There was no hope. It was hard, it was really hard. And Morgana, how it hurt. To watch him watch _her_, to see him suffer, to feel his pain as if it was her own. But then again it _was_ her own, because she was hurting from the same thing he did. _Unrequited love_. Even simply the thought of it left bitter taste in her mouth.

She didn't want much out of life. Only him. To feel his arms around her, to hear his heartbeat beating in time with hers, to make him smile that illuminating smile that makes her heart skip a beat, to make him laugh that rich and warm sound that melts her on the inside, to be able to touch him and bury her fingers through his dark locks that time and time again she would imagine would feel like pure silk against her skin. To be his. And he hers. But it would be never possible for she was Daphne Greengrass, a pure-blooded witch, Slytherin to the core of her existence. It wouldn't matter that she never took part in the War, as her family was neutral, it wouldn't matter that she never antagonized him for the past 6 years as nearly all the Slytherins did, it wouldn't matter simply because she was invisible to him. After all why would he, Harry Potter, proud Gryffindor, The Golden Boy, The Survivor of the Killing curse and killer of the last Dark Lord thus ending the Second War, notice her?

She was his total opposite.

She was delicate and little on the petite side barely reaching his chin for he had a growth sprout this past summer and now stood tall at 5'11" over her 5'5" frame. Her golden curly long hair and her light skin in contrast with his shaggy black hair and sun kissed skin. And his emerald eyes, oh, his sorrowful green eyes so different from her pale blue ones. It was breath-taking to watch him – his tall proud silhouette and his hard piercing gaze always commanding attention whenever he went no matter if he wanted that effect or not. His powerful magic blanketing him, protecting him and serving as a warning to all the fools out there not to mess with him, for he is the Potter Heir, a magnificent god of Old, whose power and beauty is locked in a mortal body, whose wrath is able to destroy the very foundations Magic stood upon. Or so Daphne liked to describe him.

Sad smile crossed her lips. Yes, indeed. He is a god, unreachable for her and the truth was painful. It was even more painful once a word of what had happened reached her ears. That .. that _girl_, how dare she! Morgana, help her, if only she could kill her to stop his pain, but that wouldn't win her any points with him.

_Ginevra Weasley_. Even only thinking of her persona brought forth a fresh portion of hatred for the red-headed girl. It was common knowledge that the last Potter had feelings for her, at least it seemed so. Every Hogwarts student was aware of that fact that he treated her like a lady. After all, his actions spoke louder than any words. But apparently that wasn't enough for the Weasley girl. People whispered, gossip was not unheard of in the high wizarding society, how he had intended to court her the Old ways, in memory of how his father, Heir James Potter courted his mother, Lily Evans. A pure-blood custom that represented the highest form of love and protection one could offer, sharing blood and magic under the Moon Mother, twining destinies, life and magic essence so deeply and irreversibly that one could rarely be seen without the other and shall one cross over, the other shortly follows. Soul magic in its purest form. Daphne was not surprised when she heard that. The love tale of Lily and James Potter was well-known and respected, no matter how short it was, and with Lord Black raising Harry there was no doubt that he longed for the love his parents had. It was a relief to the whole wizarding world when Sirius Black managed to prove his innocence in Harry's third year in Hogwarts and took the young Potter Heir under his wing, teaching him the customs of the Old in addition with the unwritten rules of the Potter and the Black line. Now, at seventeen, Harry Potter was the very epitome of a respected powerful Lord, bringing nothing but pride to the two lines. Ginny Weasley had thrown that away for a silly summer escapade, for to participate in bonding under the beams of the Moon Mother one has to be pure, both body and soul. And the girl was anything but pure – giving her attention so easily to another out of jealousy of the fact that Harry refused to be in relationship with her. Every student in Hogwarts had seen her kissing Dean Thomas at the end of last year's feast after Voldemort's defeat. After all, they weren't exactly hiding, eating each other's faces next to the Great Hall, hands ready to shed clothes any moment and having no shame at all. And the gall of that girl when Harry saw them and broke them apart – _"Well, are you jealous enough, Harry? Because I'm over you and your stupid Old ways and I'm done following some silly pure-blood crap. And here I thought that you were supposed to be the Light Hero, not the next Dark Lord."_ Needless to say that it became so quiet that you could hear the heartbeat of the person next to you, everybody holding their breath, awaiting some retaliation. It was a great disappointment to all the spectators when the Boy-Who-Lived answered with a simple _"You're going to be late for the train, Ginny."_ and turned around, his shoulder brushing against Daphne's as he continued down the corridor.

That brief contact was the only thing that gave her strength to reject all marriage offers she had received thru the summer vacation. The feel of his magic, no matter how angry and oppressive it felt against hers, was still enough to make her think of finding a way to get him to notice her.

And so, here she was. Watching him watching _her_.

_Moon Mother help me._

It was few days after the beginning of her Seventh Year when she finally managed to see him properly, without the interference of other people. Daphne wasn't even seeking him out on purpose; she was merely making her way to the Owlery when she saw him. He had changed out of his school robes as it was Sunday; black dress pants and forest green sweater complimented his persona. His dark unmanageable hair was being swept by the still warm September wind, his gorgeous eyes closed in pleasure, small smile gracing his lips. Daphne wasn't about to disturb him when he looked so peaceful if a bit sad, but the whooping sounds of laughter made her turn her head little to the left where she had perfect view of the Weasley girl and her 'boyfriend', racing on their brooms. Yet another thing she had ruined for Harry – the joy of being in the air. Daphne closed her eyes and took a deep breath; pushing aside the screaming part of her to stay in the shadows, for she was not ready for a rejection, she gathered what little courage she had and stepped forward.

"Lord Potter." How long she had longed to say his name; even his surname was making her shiver with anticipation. He opened his eyes and tilted his head to the right, his green eyes assessing her. Daphne did a small but perfect curtsey and joined him in the open alcove, her hands clasping in the front of her floor length dark blue robes, trying to hold back the tremors shaking her petite form of having his full attention on her. The feeling was extraordinary and it left her a little unsure of herself. "Please do excuse me for invading your personal space, but I couldn't continue on my way knowing that you're suffering all alone." And it was true – his magic was twisting and turning, wailing to those, who had the guts to listen; a sorrowful, sad song about loneliness and unhappiness.

He turned to face her, his body leaning on the railing behind him. "Miss Greengrass." he gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

Her heart skipped a beat. He knew her! He knew _her_. The shock must have shown on her face because his green eyes sparkled with amusement, the teasing smile on his face doing funny things to her insides.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Forgive me for what I'm about to say, Lord Potter, but my only wish is to help relieve your suffering if possible." After his nod to continue, Daphne braced herself and looked straight into his unwavering gaze. "Unrequited love is a hard thing to overcome. From my observations the person which you bestowed these feelings upon is undeserving of their sincerity and purity, never was and never shall be. I know that it's hard to simply put them aside, but you deserve so much more, Lord Potter, that it's a shame to see you hurt because of a person, who doesn't know the meaning of love." His gaze never left her face, the amusement slowly leaking out, making space for something harsher and stronger with each word that went past her lips.

"And do you know the meaning of love, Miss Greengrass?" His tone was flat and cold, gone was the warm smile from his lips.

Daphne sucked in a breath. This was not going the way she imagined it will.

"I'm not foolish enough to presume such a thing, Lord Potter, for the only love I have felt is unrequited love. But I'd like to think that the feelings I have are deep and strong enough for them to count as love. The only thing that I wish for is happiness for that person and nothing else; no matter if he finds happiness in somebody else's embrace. And if I can help him achieve that then I shall do everything I can. My suffering is nothing next to his happiness."

Something flickered in the depth of those green eyes, too fast for Daphne to catch and recognize. But the barely there tilt of his lips made her thinking that maybe it was approval if nothing else.

"You are wrong in your assumptions as many others are." His word felt like a slap to the face. Was he about to tell her that what she was feeling for him wasn't love? Shock gave way to anger but before she was about to breach all Old protocols and customs, Harry continued. "I'm not in love with Ginny Weasley."

To say that the Heiress of the Greengrass family was shocked was lightly put.

"I do apologize for speculating to know your feelings, Lord Potter, but your actions towards her were pointing in possible bonding between you two and ever since the .. _scene_ last year your magic is heavy with sadness."

"I do not mourn for losing her. I was, and still am, angry and sad with myself." Seeing the unasked question in her eyes, Harry elaborated. "I was angry because apparently the fact that I treated her like a respected lady should be treated and not like a tomboy as many others did, made everybody think that I was planning on acting on my non-existent feelings for her, and sad, because if I was projecting such intentions then surely the person that I do actually have feeling for must have thought the same. I'm mourning the loss of a possibility of a happy future, Miss Greengrass." And while Harry's words were sad and filled with self-hatred, Daphne's heart was beating so fast, she was sure it was about to burst free from her chest. Was there hope after all?

"Happy future with whom?" She was afraid to know the answer, but at the same time she _needed_ to know if she ever had a chance with him; she had to know if she should burry her feelings so deep that only she would know of them; she had to know if this was it and she was doomed to marry some pure-blood man, out for her gold and family reputation and nothing else.

"You're overly curious, Miss Greengrass." He wanted an answer, they both knew it. For the first time in her life Daphne hated the fact that her long curly hair was up in complicated bun, highlighting her features. She wished it was down to hide her face and her blush, but alas it couldn't happen so she opted for evading his all-knowing eyes and looked at the racing Gryffindors.

"As I said, I'd like to help if I can." It wasn't enough and his silence was proof for that. "Your happiness always comes before mine, my lord." There, she bared her heart and soul and now was time for his rejection. Daphne clenched her hands tighter together, her blue eyes filling with tears she was desperately trying not to let go. Taking another breath, she blinked them away, willing her heart to not break just yet and turned to face him once again. The sight that greeted her was most unexpected.

His hair was even messier if possible and his hands were gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were white, his eyes burning with so many emotions, boring into hers making her freeze in place. But the biggest surprise was his magic. Gone was the twisted sadness that was part of his magic for so long now. In its place was something so much more intense, making his magic to spiral out of control, brushing against hers in a delicious way.

_Moon Mother, dare I hope?_

Slowly Harry brought his magic under control, unclenched his hands and took the few steps separating them.

"It seems that we were both terribly mistaken." His magic blanketed hers, making her feel safe, desired, worshipped, wanted, _loved_. His hands moved gently and slowly down her shoulders, past her elbows until they reached her hands and interlocked their fingers together, his eyes never leaving hers. "You will never again think that your love is not shared if you will have me, Daphne." Her name sounded like pure sin, rolling off of his tongue. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently and tenderly, as if savoring its taste and feel, and then put it over his heart. "Forgive me for not acting sooner on my feelings, but I was unsure on how to bring up the subject. Confessing my feelings when we had never spoken just didn't seem right with me." His embarrassed smile made her heart soar. Her chocked laughter and blush followed right after and Daphne buried her flaming face in his shoulder.

She could feel his warmth and strength through his clothes, his heart a steady beat, lulling hers along. It was a dream come true and as his hands enveloped her in a tight hug, she thought that she wouldn't have it any other way. The silence between them was comfortable and the two of them relished in the feeling of having the other so close. One of his hands gently raised Daphne's head and brushed few stray tears that managed to escape her beautiful happy eyes. His touch was intoxicating and Daphne couldn't get enough of it. Harry slowly lowered his head, hesitating a bit and giving her time to move if she desired to, but Daphne made the decision for him as she sneaked her hands in his hair, pulling him down. She was right – his hair was like silk, but his lips were even better. This kiss was slow and unhurried, full of wonder and love, and as they tasted each other for the first time their magic wrapped around them, connecting them in a faint imitation of a soul bond. The need for breath broke them apart, amazement filling their eyes and souls.

Harry brushed his thumb across her lower lip, his gaze darkening with something Daphne started associating with desire.

"It seems, my lord," Daphne sounded quite breathless and she could feel his arm pulling her even closer to his body when she addressed him, "that you took advantage of me, as I never received a courtship offer from you. Because of this I insist on full compensation." The amusement was back in his eyes reminding her once again how incredibly handsome he was and how insanely lucky she was that he returned her feelings.

"I hope you have something in mind and I shall gladly comply to your wishes, my lady." Her hands clenched in his hair, her legs about to give out because of the sensations he was causing in her body with his low sensual tone and the hand on her back that was tracing imaginary shapes.

"Well but of course. I expect a courtship offer by tonight, my lord and – "

"Harry." He whispered in her ear, chuckling as he felt her shivering in his arms. "And I think that a bonding is more appropriate for our situation, no?"

Daphne blinked in surprise. She wasn't expecting him to be ready for bonding so soon.

".. Yes." She cleared her throat.

"And?"

"And I was going to ask for a token of your feelings. I wanted wizards and witches alike to know that I belong to you and you to me." Her voice was little unsteady, her blush blooming under his intense stare. What she didn't expect was for him to pull his hand back, put it into his pants pocket and take out a tiny box, made out of white gold with blue gems decorating the lid. Harry enlarged it, displaying an impressive control of wandless magic and beckoned her to open it.

Daphne gasped when she saw the content – delicate white gold bracelet with different sized ornaments, each one of them pulsating with his magic. She was sure that there were protective charms on them and Harry confirmed it.

"I've been carrying it with me for quite a while now. Every ornament is soaked with my magic and it will let me know where are you and if you're in need of my help." He put the box on the railing behind them, took the bracelet and clasped it around Daphne's left wrist. "Daphne Greengrass, do you accept my offer for bonding and life under the guidance of the Moon Mother?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, I do." A surge of magic left the bracelet, spilling over her body and sinking in her very own bones.

And looking in his eyes Daphne thought that there was hope after all.

_Thank you, Moon Mother._

_Is it possible Mr. Lovable is already in my life?_

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Feel free to drop me a review to let me know if you liked it.

- M.


	2. Heart's Desire

**Theme:** enslaved  
**Pairing:** Draco/Hermione **  
Rating:** T**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.**  
Warning(s):** None.  
**A/N:** Well... this wrote itself. No, really, I'm not kidding, I barely did anything. And it was way faster that I thought it will be. Also I want to use the chance to thank everyone who followed, favorited and especially to those of you who spend the time to drop me a review. It's all very appreciated ^_^  
**Summary:** They had set him up, he just knew it, but watching her glide across the ballroom making his breath hitch with every move she made, he couldn't find it in himself to complain.

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**Heart's desire**  
One-shot

Draco Lucius Malfoy was utterly bored and that was saying a lot when one kept in mind that he was observing the processing of the Annual Summer Malfoy Ball. And it wasn't just an ordinary Ball, not that any Malfoy event was ever ordinary; it was even more grand than usual for the Malfoy Heir was celebrating his sixteenth birthday, an age granting him the blessing of the Moon Mother's magic and suitable for looking for a life-long bondmate.

Even so, Draco couldn't be bothered to care. He was finding the whole affair ridiculous, the thought of looking for a bondmate leaving a sharp pain in his heart and bringing nothing but a headache because he was quite aware that the person his heart desired was…unavailable at best. He grimaced and ruffled his smooth hair, making it way messier than it was appropriate for a person of importance like himself. If his dear mother, Lady Narcissa Malfoy, saw him hiding in the dark corner of the Grand Ballroom he was sure that he was in for a nice and long scolding how he had responsibilities to his guests. Of course, that will be after she would unnecessary fuss with his dark green dress robes and making sure that he was feeling fine. Just even thinking about it was making his headache pound into his brain with full force and Draco decided to desert his hiding place in favor of finding his best friend, Blaise Zabini, who should have arrived until now.

Mingling through the big crowd – after all the Malfoy Summer Ball was one of the biggest events in the British magical community – Draco forced a charming smile on his face and accepted the well-wishes he received along with the compliments about his good-looks, the magnificent ball the Malfoy family was holding and generally tried to ignore the lecherous stares he was getting from some of the daughters and even from some of the wives of the more lucky families that managed to receive an invitation to be present at the Ball. Really, some people had no shame at all and not for the first time Draco cursed his mother insistence on having the ball on his birthday ensuring his presence at all costs. He had managed to escape the last two balls but Lady Malfoy wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

A flash of dark skin in the sea of people brought his attention to the refreshments table where Blaise was happily sipping his drink. Draco excused himself from the conversation he was having with Nott Senior and made his way to the table, divided between kissing Blaise for providing a distraction he could use to end the conversation and killing him for leaving him at the mercy of Lady Nott for so long, her stare making Draco feel more violated than necessary.

Grabbing a shot of firewhiskey Draco drowned it all in one go and turned to glare at his friend.

"Where have you been? I've been going nuts here!" if his voice sounded like an easily annoyed five year old sulking after his broken toy they both decided to wisely not comment on that. The only reaction Draco got was a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Evening, Draco. Yes, I'm enjoying myself, thank you for asking." Blaise couldn't help but tease his fellow Slytherin. "Nice dress robes. You turned quite a few heads on your way here."

"Not the head I want." Draco muttered in response. It certainly didn't suit him to pout but just for a moment he indulged in his guilty pleasure. Closing his miserable grey eyes the Malfoy Heir took a deep breath and put all thoughts of her as far away from his head as he could…which wasn't much at all because she had his heart. Shaking his head to get rid of pointless debates with himself Draco donned his people mask on and cracked a small smile at Blaise antics.

Taking a look at his friend Draco let out a low whistle. "I don't remember ever seeing you so nicely dressed. Trying to steal all of my admirers, aren't you?" Blaise' laugh washed over him easing his nerves and ridding him of the tension in his body he wasn't aware he had.

Draco wasn't exaggerating – Blaise did look incredibly handsome tonight. The tall, dark-skinned Slytherin was wearing nicely cut royal blue dress robes with little bit of black and silver lining on the hem of the robes. Combined with his unusual dark violet eyes – inheritance of his loving mother –, dark brown shaggy hair and his commanding presence he was quite the catch. That is if you could cover his standards. Draco was sure that there was no living person, be it man or woman, that could match all the characteristics that Blaise looked for in a partner. And being a witness to the amusement that would fill Blaise eyes every time a pretty girl fluttered her eyelashes at him, Draco was ready to bet his entire Malfoy fortune that Blaise was having the fun of the century leading those poor girls by the nose. He simply looked good and he knew it.

Not that Draco was far behind, on the contrary – having inherited his mother's grace and mannerism along with his father's body structure and charisma Draco was considered one of the finest good-looking young men among his yearmates. Tonight was more than enough evidence for that. His silver-blond hair, grey stormy eyes, strong jaw line and impressive height of 6' combined with his fit body made him look positively delicious in the green robes his mother insisted on him wearing. The barely there hint of sandalwood was a nice finish to the whole package that was Draco Malfoy.

"Where's Potter?" Draco scanned the crowd. "It's not in his nature to be late for this kind of events."

"Harry is fine. He did send me an owl to let me know that he's experiencing some…difficulties and should be here soon." Blaise was quick to cast aside any thoughts that could ruin Draco's night. It was a little known fact that the proud Malfoy Heir was a worrywart when it came down to his friends and precious people and, surprisingly, Harry Potter was one of them. That was yet another little known fact that made people do a double take when they happened to see them together. Of course, Hogwarts students were mostly used to associating the Golden Boy with the Slytherin Prince but it was always entertaining to watch them standing slack jawed and watching on with unbelieving eyes. Turns out that you _can_ actually catch flies if you stay with your mouth open but, oh well, that's a story for another time.

The friendly rivalry Harry and Draco had starting their First Year somehow managed to blossom in a magnificent and unique friendship by the time they were both fourteen, dragging along in the mix Harry's best friends in Gryffindor Hermione Granger and the Weasley twins, and Draco's – Blaise and Tracey Davis. Few months after the start of Fourth Year they were known among the students as the Eccentric Study group because they tended to occupy the library for study sessions and chit-chat, and were later joined by Adrian Pucey, Cedric Diggory, Lisa Turpin, Isabel MacDougal, Susan Bones and Luna Lovegood. Age and House differences didn't matter and if the Headmaster's twinkle was anything to go by then the oddball of a group was quite welcomed.

"Difficulties?" Draco couldn't help but ask. This was after all Harry's first official appearance at a social event of the scale of the Malfoy Ball and even though he was widely known as the Boy-Who-Lived he let his guardian and godfather Sirius Black to handle his fame, alluding to the Old customs that a Heir did not necessary have to participate in the magical high life until his or hers sixteenth birthday. But since he was barely two months away from claiming the Potter Lordship it made sense for him to start mingling.

"Sirius is keeping him in the house until he looks as presentable as possible but with that hair of his I'm sure it will be a while until he arrives." That brought a fresh wave of laughter from Draco and Blaise gladly added a chuckle or two. "Come on, I saw Tracey and Luna earlier and I'm sure that I managed to catch a glimpse of Cedric and Adrian somewhere around here." With that the two young men made their way to the ever growing crowd.

Two hours into the ball Draco was finally starting to enjoy himself. The soft music in the background, the nice aroma of the appetizers and drinks, which were served on round tables in every corner of the Grand Ballroom, and the buzzing of people's conversations made the whole experience not so bad at all. And, of course, his friends did help for improving the atmosphere as well. Now if only Potter could show up so that he could call it a night and disappear from here. Really, two hours was too much even for Sirius' standards for being fashionably late.

As if Merlin himself heard his prayers, three figures descended the marble staircase and slowly made their way to greet his parents. One of them was unmistakably Sirius Black. The way he walked and held himself spoke for a proud and confident individual, his eyes maybe the only thing giving away his mischievous nature. The young man kissing his mother's hand was no other than Potter; his defying gravity hair was a dead giveaway. The Potter family crest on his robes did help as well. The third person completing the Black-Potter duo was…a surprise. It was a girl, probably around Draco's age, dressed in a beautiful white gown decorated with emerald gems and green fabric flowers; her honey-brown hair was up in complicated hairdo, pinned in place with pearl hairpins, her hands were covered with white silk gloves that ended little over her elbows. Her curtsey to the Malfoy patriarch was perfectly executed and if judging by the small nod from his father and the smile on his mother's face they actually liked this girl. But maybe the most striking piece of the girl's look was the delicate china mask she had covering her eyes and nose. The design of the mask went along with the white and green theme she seemed to have going on but with the addition of few masterfully drawn silver spirals and lines. She looked superb, celestial even and he wasn't the only one noticing that. A tilt of her head showed the slim line of her jaw, her smiling pink lips and emerald earrings that looked suspiciously familiar to Draco.

His gaze went over her frame once more – he knew that silhouette and especially those lips, he had spent countless hours dreaming about them. The earrings were another giveaway; Draco had gifted them to her on her sixteenth birthday last September. His heart stopped beating for a moment and then started anew at a pace he was sure it was going to make him breathless. It was unlikely but here she was – the girl of his dreams, _Hermione Granger_. She was here on his birthday in Malfoy manor, dressed like that and wearing that mask and… oh, Merlin, _the mask!_ Could it be? He had lost all hope last year but was it possible that she was having her Introduction at last?

The _"Happy birthday, Draco"_ whispered in his ear by Blaise and the smirk Harry send him across the room once their stares met confirmed his suspicions.

Introduction. If a Muggle-born witch or wizard wanted to be able to bond under the Moon Mother's blessing and to honour the Old ways she or he had to have an Introduction. Usually a respected family would take under its wing the Muggle-born witch or wizard and teach them about the Old traditions, customs and celebrations; about proper etiquette and manners. Once an Introduction was held – generally when one was sixteen – all courtship offers, betrothal contracts and bonding ceremonies first would have to be approved by the Head of the family responsible for the Introduction. In a way the Head of the family becomes a magical proxy for the Muggle-born. Draco would have jumped all in for hosting an Introduction for Hermione if it wasn't for one stupid clause in the agreement between the Muggle-born and the proxy – a clause that stated that the witch or the wizard that receives an Introduction from one family cannot become a part of it.

Draco was utterly devastated and heart-broken when Hermione's birthday came and went without any talk about her getting anything similar to an Introduction. By that time he had developed something definitely more than a crush for the Gryffindor girl and as far as he knew his feelings were fully returned if the blush on Hermione's cheeks and the way her warm brown eyes seemed to sparkle every time her gaze landed on his form were taken in account. Draco very much wanted to court her and maybe later, depending on how things worked out between them, even make her the future Lady Malfoy but he was from the Old families, following the Moon Mother's unwritten rules and guidance and as such his mate was required to believe and acknowledge the Moon Mother's magic and practice some of the yearly rituals in her name. And for all that Hermione needed an Introduction. To say that he was equally disappointed with Harry and Blaise was lightly put. Both of them were aware of the sparks flying between the Malfoy Heir and the brains-behind-the-pranks, as the notorious Weasley twins liked to joke, and Draco had expected one of them to take care of Hermione's Introduction, especially when it became clear that she was completely fascinated with learning about the Old ways hearing bits and pieces about it from Potter.

He tried to let it go, he really did. He tried forgetting his feelings, burying them deep into the core of his sub consciousness, he tried thinking about other girls but nothing worked. She had him bewitched; he was irrevocably enslaved by her. And somehow he knew that he wouldn't have it any other way so he hid his sadness and mended his broken heart as best as he could and continued to watch over her, lending a hand when she needed one. If he couldn't be with her like he very much wanted to, then he was going to make sure that he was always there for her. He had given up on making her his when the Christmas holidays came and she refused his invite to the Malfoy Winter Solstice gathering, confirming his fears that her interest in the Old customs was merely because of her love for knowledge. His mother was beside herself with worry when Draco spent his winter holidays staring out of the window of his room watching the falling snow. Narcissa had never seen her usually full of life son so broken and did what every other mother would have done in her place – she let him get his act together for few days and after that spoiled him to her heart's content much to the amusement of her dear husband; not that Lucius wasn't worried, he was just better at hiding it. His parents' efforts were worth it and after spilling his troubles to his mother Draco felt that maybe he could face the world again.

Draco had considered marriage as well but it just didn't feel right. Marriage was so fragile, trust was easily lost and broken, love and passion fading. Bonding was so much more intimate. _Eternal_. Love so strong that it joined two souls together creating a connection between the lovers incomparable to nothing else. You don't have to worry if your partner doesn't love you or doesn't find you attractive anymore because you can feel his devotion; it was all there, in the bond, such an integral part of you that you can feel it in your bones. Draco had seen it in the loving smiles of his parents, of his grandparents. And he couldn't bring himself to bear the limitations marriage presented.

Just watching her smile and interact with other people was doing weird stuff to his insides; he was feeling all happy and nervous at the same time, something completely out of character for him, and maybe little jealous too. Draco wanted all of Hermione's attention only on him, he was selfish like that. But the Slytherin pushed those feelings away and let her enjoy the evening, keeping an eye on his soon-to-be-mate all the time.

As this was her Introduction Potter and Black had the responsibilities to meet and introduce her to various Lords, Ladies and Heirs. Until then the china mask would stay in place, preventing the more grudge-holding individuals from judging her if they somehow knew her personally or have heard of her.

Draco could wait until tomorrow to send in a courtship offer. He had waited so long that few hours were nothing. Cracking his first real smile for the night, the Malfoy Heir turned his attention back to his friends, all of them wearing similar amused and happy expressions. Ignoring them all and silently swearing that he was going to pay them back Draco turned his attention to the youngest girl among the group.

"Miss Lovegood," followed by a mock bow and "would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" earned him a "Thank you, Heir Malfoy. The Nargles seem to have infested your head and little bit of dancing around should get rid of them. Of course, wearing that cork necklace I gave you would have been better option." from the dreamy-eyed girl.

Blaise couldn't hold in his snickers and openly laughed, Tracey not far behind.

"There are no mistletoes here, Luna." She really was an interesting person.

"Oh? That's not possible, Draco." Her big blue eyes blinked innocently at him. "But I might be mistaken and it's actually the Blibbering Humdingers." Clearly happy with her conclusion, the Lovegood Heiress took Draco's outstretched hand and together they made their way to the dance area.

"What do you say, Miss Davis? Should we join them?"

"That we most certainly should do, Mister Diggory." Tracey smiled and let Cedric swirl her around the dancing floor.

Blaise looked at Adrian and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Don't even think about it, Zabini." Adrian growled out.

"Fine, fine, you spoilsport. Let's go find some nice girls we can sweep of their feet."

An hour later and Draco was ready to strangle somebody. That was it, once she accepts his courtship he was going to make sure nobody touched her in any way, or even take a glance at her. Unfortunately for him he had no claim on her _yet_ and he couldn't steal her away and lock her in some high tower, to which only he had a key. Besides, Hermione would probably scream his ears off; her temper tantrums were fun to watch – the air around her suddenly heavy with the density of her magic, her brown eyes spitting fire, her face would flush with anger and she would shake with rage until she has proven you right and she was out of breath, her chest moving in a way that made it hard for Draco to not just grab her and kiss her until she wouldn't be able to comprehend nothing else but the feel of him.

She was teasing him, he knew, that little minx of his. Testing his patience, his want and need for her. They were always at the opposite ends of the room, circling each other in the pale imitation of a dance. It was both exhilarating and frustrating. Draco longed to have her in his arms, to pull her body flush against his, to dip his head and taste those sinful lips. But he kept on playing her game knowing that the prize was more than worth it even though his patience was drawing close. Besides the way her elbow would find its way to Potter's ribs every now and then, discreetly steering him towards Draco was enough for the Malfoy Heir to know that he wasn't the only one desperate for them to meet.

And there she was, finally, standing in front of him, her magic fluttering around her, a cloud of nervousness. Her gaze boldly meeting his, shy smile on her perfect pink lips. Draco didn't pay any attention to what was Potter talking, the conversation couldn't hold his attention; he had eyes only for Hermione.

"Miss." Draco took her hand and kissed the back of her palm. He let his magic slowly tame hers, trying to send across love and happiness, joy and adoration.

The brilliant smile Hermione bestowed upon him was enough for him to know he had succeeded. "Heir Malfoy." The curtsey was perfect as everything else she set her mind on was.

He continued holding her hand as if it was the most precious thing in the world and gently laid it in the crook of his elbow.

"Will such a lovely lady as yourself grant my humble wish and dance with me? I promise I won't step on your toes."

Hermione managed to hold back her giggles and instead opted for a big smile. Draco always had a way to make her feel safe, protected and loved at the same time. But most of all he made her feel beautiful. With him she wasn't the bushy-haired know-it-all – not that she was bushy anymore, few potions took care of that – she was simply a girl, a gorgeous self-confident girl. And that was one of the many reasons why she loved him. One of the many.

"Lead the way."

Her hands on his shoulders made his body burn and tingle. And the feel of _her_ body against his made his head spin. The sweet aroma of vanilla and honey, the creamy sight of her neck, the teeth worrying her lower lip, her lithe body – all of this made her even more heavenly and Draco had no plans of ever letting her go. Distantly his brain made the connection between the green flowers on her dress and the green on his robes – it was the exact same shade and his mother had insisted that he wore the green robes after he had chosen the dark blue ones. They had set him up, all of them, family and friends alike but seeing the love shine in Hermione's eyes he couldn't care less.

She was his witch, his heart's desire and he was enslaved by her. And Draco loved every second of it.

* * *

For those of you who are little bit confused I'd like to remind them that Hermione is born on September 19th 1979 making her nearly an year older than the rest of her classmates.

Reviews are always a nice way to let a person know that you appreciate his efforts ;]

- M.


	3. La Danse de l'Enchanteresse

**Theme:** tease  
**Pairing:** Harry/Tracey Davis **  
Rating:** T**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.**  
Warning(s):** Err … fluff?  
**A/N:** Nobody likes Dramione? Shame. _This_ is inspired by the dance _Duo Flame_. Go check them out ;]  
**Summary:** The music started and she knew nothing else except the sound of the hypnotic rhythm and the feel of Harry's eyes lingering on her form. She was _dancing for him_. And then she was lost in it.

* * *

**La Danse de l'Enchanteresse  
**One-shot

The corridor was bare and lost in darkness. The usually lively animated portraits had fallen into slumber, obvious to the world around them. Only the moon illuminated small patches of light so the darkness didn't seem so oppressing.

The silent steps were lost into the fluttering of a cloak. An invisibility cloak on top of that. One that belonged to none other than Harry Potter. The Gryffindor was too busy shining light with his holly wand on a seemingly old yellow piece of parchment to pay any attention to his surroundings. Not that he had to, after all the Marauder's Map showed everyone everywhere. Currently Mrs. Norris, the most annoying cat to have ever lived, was patrolling the dungeons while her caretaker, Filch, was busy stalking the Gryffindor common room. But even that was of no concern to the black haired youth. No, a tiny black dot had his undivided attention. A tiny black dot named Tracey Davis, his girlfriend.

It came as a surprise to many people when it got out that they were in a relationship. But to both his and hers friends it was quite obvious and expected; they have been dancing around each other since a Transfiguration project in Fifth year. Now, nearly at the end of Sixth year, Harry was content with Tracey by his side and had never been gladder to have kept in contact with her through the summer vacation, after all that was one of the reasons they got together at the beginning of the school year. Even though she was a Slytherin and as different from him as it could get, there was no other person that could connect with him the same way she did. And the fact that she was a sweet and caring person, with beautiful looks and a slightly vindictive side made her all the more precious to him.

Frown marred his features before disappearing as Harry took a left turn and waited for the moving staircase to take him to the fifth floor. Worry was evident in his cat-like green eyes. The whisper of _"Mischief managed"_ was nearly silent as he rolled the map and tucked it safely in his robes already having memorized the exact position of the person he was after.

It was most unusual day for him. His morning started with Ron's grumbles for food and snarky comments about Potion class, followed by the weirdest so far conversation with Daphne Greengrass where she accused him of preventing her fellow Slytherin and best friend Tracey from getting her much needed sleep by keeping her up all night doing who know what and overall not making an honest woman out of her. Harry was equally amused and disturbed by that confrontation. It's not every day that you learn that your girlfriend disappears nearly every night from her dorm and it's not with you. Unfortunately between his morning classes and his late evening Quidditch practice he wasn't able to catch his dark-haired beauty and ask her about it. Not that he feared that she was being unfaithful, Tracey wasn't like that, he was simply concerned about her.

It came as a complete surprise when he spotted her in a small classroom in the slightly more old and unused part of the Hogwarts castle. The Gryffindor Quidditch Captain was checking the map as he was preparing to sneak out of the Prefect's bathroom – sometimes having best friends Prefects had its advantages – when he noticed her name on the parchment.

He liked mysteries. And he was dead set on solving this one.

His feet stopped in front of the classroom. Harry leaned in it and held his breath but no sound came other than the one of his heartbeat. Torn between leaving and entering, his Gryffindor tendencies won and he gently pushed the door open.

Soft music greeted his ears along with the most beautiful sight he had seen – dark chocolate hair fanning out around delicate face, pink lips bitten in concentration and grey eyes closed in pleasure. Sweat was glittering along her exposed pale skin as she danced flawlessly, her lithe body twisting and turning in breathtaking patterns. The clothes she wore left no doubt about the attractiveness of the sensual creature hidden under them – the simple black tank top and grey shorts cling to her like second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Not that Harry was complaining as his eyes followed her every move from the quick agile steps of her bare feet to the soft sway of her hips and the perfectly executed twists of her wrists.

Tracey Davis was one beautiful seductress and she was all _his_.

Harry slowly closed the door behind him smiling as he felt the silencing spell snap back in place. That explained why he hadn't heard anything and why Tracey could get lost in her dancing so easily – she had no fear of being discovered. Tugging the cloak off he let it rest upon one of the old rusty chairs pushed against the wall. His hand absent mindedly racked through his still wet hair pushing it back from his gaze, emerald eyes following intently every move she made.

The music picked up pace and with that so did her moves. The Slytherin girl danced seemingly effortlessly, as if gliding across the floor. As if she was one with the music. The twirls became faster and faster as the tempo increased, body bending in ways Harry previously thought impossible. Her exquisite curves were calling him and tempting him to join her, to take her in his arms and steal her breath away, sealing her lips with his. The call was irresistible but Harry held.

Too soon to his liking the music reached its peak and came to abrupt cut. Back arched, arms flung in the air, hips swaying with the dying beat and legs going on forever Harry was suddenly reminded of the _samodivas_ of the South-Slavic folklore Luna liked to talk so much about. The air was charged with the raw power of her magic, it was so wild and heavenly that the Gryffindor would have gladly drowned himself in it if possible. The seduction of her dance and her unearthly beauty had Harry at her mercy even if she didn't know it. _Hook, line and sinker._ And he was ready to bet the Quidditch Cup that she never even intended for him to find out about her midnight escapades. Merlin bless Greengrass' soul for being a noisy friend.

Her chest moved with every deep breath she took, her lips opened in silent invitation to taste them but Harry forced himself to relax his taunt muscles and propped himself against the frame of the door. Black eyelashes slowly opened to reveal warm grey eyes, small smile gracing her features. And in a moment her form stiffened as Tracey realized she wasn't alone. Her head whipped around and as grey meet green the noticeable fear and tension in the air gave way to relief once she recognized his familiar presence.

"Harry!" There was a slight squeak in her voice that Harry was sure that she'll deny once she was over her mortification.

His lips curled into an amused smirk and he observed her fidgeting nervously under his stare, embarrassment adding to the rosy hue of her cheeks.

"Hello, beautiful." More blood rushed to her cheeks.

No matter how many times he called her that over the past seven months they have been together she still blushed when hearing the endearment and Harry found it simply adorable. Tracey was blessed with a truly innocent soul, one, which the Potter Hair was madly in love with and he would stop next to nothing to protect her.

Warping hands around her midriff, she cleared her throat and boldly met his all-knowing gaze. "What are you doing here?" Genuine curiosity laced her question.

"I had the most interesting conversation with Daphne today."

"Oh?" _Do elaborate_ her tone suggested.

Harry hummed in agreement. "You see she was very concerned about you. Something about how I am an irresponsible boyfriend whisking you away at night like that, corrupting your innocence in the process. Imagine my surprise when I heard that."

Tracey winced slightly at the teasing accusation he made and took on a sheepish look. She had heard the unasked question about why had she been sneaking out but Tracey didn't feel like answering it. It was a stupid and silly reason on top of that. So she opted for staring stubbornly at her feet.

"Tracey?" Concern was evident in his voice and she had to bite her bottom lip to stop the traitorous words from leaving her mouth.

The room suddenly appeared chilly to her warmed skin and she rubbed her arms up and down hoping to chase the cold away. Steps echoed in the otherwise empty room as Harry crossed the space between them and caught one of her arms in his.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" His other one gently tugged free her abused lip and curled at the back of her head, carefully forcing her eyes to meet his.

"How did you find me?"

Harry's eyes narrowed at her blunt refusal to answer his question. "I was making my way to the Gryffindor's common room from the Prefect's bathroom when I saw you on the map and decided to stop by and see what you are doing."

Now that he said it Tracey noticed that his hair did seem blacker than usual. Damp spots decorated his otherwise pristine white shirt from where the water drops had fallen. And the smell of his favourite, and secretly hers as well, sandalwood soap was stronger and fresher.

"What's wrong?" he repeated softly.

His thumb was tracing imaginary patterns on the back of her hand and Tracey found it difficult to concentrate.

"I have trouble sleeping at night." Drawing strength from his presence and magic she continued, berating herself for thinking that he would leave her because of her apparent weakness. Harry had the Potter blood running through his veins and nothing short of death would make him break his word and he had promised to never leave her. "I have nightmares and I can't sleep." Her voice shook slightly at the admission.

"Is that why you have been sneaking out? To dance?" No accusation or disappointment in his voice. Only concern, affection and something else Tracey couldn't identify.

She nodded. "It helps me relax and unwind."

"Well you definitely have a flare for it." There were equal parts of respect and approval in his voice, with a hint of something more carnal and devilish setting her nerves on fire and making her blood boil. Simultaneously with that she became aware of her inappropriate outfit and her state of undress.

Another smirk was directed at her as if sensing the direction her thoughts turned to. Tracey scoffed at him and extracted her revenge by poking him in the chest. Not that it did her any good as the hard plates of his muscles only served to remind her of the position they were in. Of course, if her palm refused to move from its place on his chest she had nothing to do with that. Nope. She was completely innocent on that matter. It wasn't her fault he was so damn handsome and she had the urge to always touch him.

His left hand, the one holding her right one, stopped its ministrations and slowly made its way to the middle of her back, pushing her body closer to his. Harry's tall frame towered over her smaller one and she couldn't help but notice how well they fit together, like missing pieces of a puzzle. Lost in the depth of his emerald eyes she had no objections when he brought his face mere millimeters away from hers.

Harry thoroughly studied her face memorizing each curve, each tiny freckle before covering her lips with his. It's was heavenly. His hands tightened around her body molding her over his and as her hands reached to tangle in his still wet hair she found out that she didn't mind at all. The kiss was long and sensual leaving both of them breathless. They shared few more open mouthed kisses before Harry drew back, playfully biting her bottom lip in the process.

Harry couldn't keep the smug smile from his face – with rosy cheeks, plump red lips, labored breathing and eyes glazed with pleasure Tracey looked completely debauched. Holding back was a difficult task for him but his angel deserved so much more than rushed touches and fleeting pleasure in an abounded classroom. Instead the Gryffindor opted for nipping her earlobe, blowing hot air on the wet skin and taking pride in hearing her hitched breath and feeling her racing heartbeat.

"Dance for me."

Tracey blinked few times trying to get rid of the haze obscuring her thoughts to actually comprehend the meaning of the words Harry's silky voice had delivered.

"What?" She was sure she was hearing stuff; there was no way Harry asked of her to –

"Dance for me." His green eyes sparkled with humor. Leaning in he rubbed his nose against hers in a pale imitation of an eskimo kiss and holding her shocked gaze with his he added a "Please."

"I –" It wasn't often that her boyfriend managed to catch her off guard like that. She was the Slytherin one, she was the one constantly surprising him one way or another but right now she had to wonder if the Sorting Hat hadn't made a mistake. Surely taking an advantage of a situation like this one was not a Gryffindor move.

Tracey was so deep in her stupefaction that she didn't even blush at his implication. What he was asking of her was inappropriate and…and what? Wrong? But there was nothing wrong with that, right? The only thing she had to ask herself was if she was willing to do it. The thought of him watching her dance was making her nervous and giddily at the same time. To have his undivided attention focused solely on her and her alone was something she always strove to achieve. And to know that he had seen her in her element mere minutes ago and the knowledge that he had enjoyed it only served to boost her self-confidence and push her to take a rather Gryffindor choice.

"Okay." Unfortunately or not saying it out loud didn't make her less nervous.

"Only if you're willing to. I don't want you to do something you're not comfortable with." The Davis Heiress hated how transparent she was to him. It made her feel exposed and vulnerable but at the same time she had never felt safer or happier. It was such a paradox, _Harry_ was such a paradox.

Shaking her head to get rid of her musings Tracey regretfully pulled free from his embrace and went to charm the record-player to play a song again. With her peripheral vision she saw Harry getting comfortable in one of the chairs, magic fluttering around with anticipation. Morgana, was she really about to put on a performance for Harry Potter? Warmth filled her heart and gradually reached every fiber of her existence when she felt Harry's magic swirling around hers. Yes, she was.

The music started and she knew nothing else except the sound of the hypnotic rhythm and the feel of Harry's eyes lingering on her form. There was neither time nor place for embarrassment or uncertainty, only magic and Harry and the fact that she was _dancing for him_. The sudden realization of that made her intoxicated with joy and satisfaction was fuelling her dance with more and more passion and energy. And then she was lost in it.

Harry didn't dare breathe less he ruined the magical image in front of him. The brief glimpse of Tracey's previous dance paled in comparison to what he was seeing now. His beautiful angel moved with the grace of a celestial creature; complicated steps, twirls and twists were executed as if they were walk in the park. The air was heavy with her wild calling magic and even if he wished Harry was in no condition to tear his eyes off from her elegant form.

There was something primal in the whole thing he soon realized. It was moving through the deepest nooks and corners of his soul urging him to claim and posses, to forget and lose himself in the feel and sight of her dance. To give up on everything – his name, his memory, his possessions – just to have her for a moment. His little _samodiva_. She had him completely enchanted.

Minutes passed by, or were they hours, nobody knew or cared about. But they knew once it was over.

Tracey was breathing hard, almost all of her muscles aching and protesting at the exertion they were placed under. Even so, the ache was pleasurable for it only served to remind her that she did her best. Her dark brown hair was damp with sweat and her skin was shining because of it. The tank top was sticky against her skin but she dismissed the feeling almost immediately eager to see Harry's reaction. She was far from disappointed.

His body was taut like a bow ready to spring in action every second now. His usually sparkling green eyes were so dark now and filled with so much heat behind his glasses she could barely stand the weight of his gaze. His jaw was clenched shut as if he couldn't trust himself not to say something. It was overwhelming, the way she could affect him so easily nearly snapping his iron clad control. And surprisingly she wanted to make him lose his cool, to let that passion out. She wanted to know what it would be like to feel it. And as she watched him get his emotions under control once again she decided that teasing him like this would be cruel but not enough to stop her doing it.

"Thank you." The words were sincere and his deep sinful voice made her shudder.

Later that same night Tracey pretended that she didn't see Harry casting a few complicated wards that would alarm him when somebody enters the room and the Gryffindor let her play her game of teasing. It was a win-win situation for both of them and never let it be said that a Slytherin or a Gryffindor missed an opportunity like this.

* * *

_samodiva _- woodland fairy found in the South-Slavic culture and mythology (mostly Romania and Bulgaria). Very beautiful girls which are able to bewitch and enchant every men.

**Oh! **I'm interested in what pairings you, my dear readers, would like/would hate to see in this collection. That does not necessarily mean that i will/will not write about them but it will be nice to know what you guys like. Do tell me about it.

As it is, please drop me a review to let me know what are your thoughts about this one and how many of you actually have heard of samodivas? ;]

-M.


	4. Twenty seconds of bravery

**Theme:** I'm here  
**Pairing:** Harry/Nymphadora Tonks, Remus/Tonks **  
Rating:** T**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.**  
Warning(s):** Little bit of angst and language?  
**A/N:** Weird how I wrote this while listening to_ Wolf and I _by _Oh land_.  
**Summary:** It's too late, Remus thought. He had lost her to the person he least suspected. But it was nobody's fault but his own for he had pushed her away all this time. Besides, he knew that Harry would treat her right. Set after 5th year and Harry's 16th birthday.

* * *

**Twenty seconds of bravery**  
One-shot

She pulled away and lowered her gaze, hating how hurt Remus looked. But she couldn't, not anymore at least. It was too much, all the pretending. The hair, the clothes, and the way she acted. It was all so fake and she despised herself for it, for running away from who she really was. And who she really longed for.

"I'm sorry, Remus. I really am." Her bubblegum pink hair took on a dull grey color. "It was nice but…"

"But what?" Merlin, he sounded like a kicked puppy. The irony of that statement brought a sad smile to her face. "Dora, I don't understand." She shivered. There was only one person she allowed to call her that now and it had been a long time ago when Remus had lost that privilege. "You've always pursued me and now that we went out on a date you suddenly don't like me anymore?" Confusion and hurt clouded his otherwise clear brown eyes.

Nymphadora closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"That's not it; it's just not the same."

"Not the same?"

She bit her bottom lip and opened her eyes.

"It's just…" Frustration was making her voice come out sharper than she would like it to be. "I'm not sure I feel the same anymore."

"What?" Remus was lost for words. "Where did this come from? We were fine yesterday. Was it something I said, something I did?"

"Yes… and no. And we haven't been fine for a quite a while now. And there hasn't been a 'we' to begin with." The young Auror took a step back from the werewolf and leaned on the wall next to the door of the kitchen. They were inside 12 Grimmauld Place and the thought that somebody could walk in any moment now while she was having this conversation with Remus was setting her nerves on edge.

"All this time I was always the one who was chasing you, always putting my feelings on the line, my heart in your hands just to have it broken again and again and again. After being refused so many times and turned away, said 'no' to… I'm not a Gryffindor, Remus. I don't have the strength to keep going when it seems a dead end." _Not for you at least._ "And while I'm a Hufflepuff, my loyalty can't stand a broken heart."

"I still don't understand." He was shaking his head. "You knew I had the same feelings for you but part of the reason I pushed you away was because I'm too old for you. I'm not worthy of you. I'm a _werewolf_." The last part was spat with as much disgust as he could manage.

"I knew nothing about your supposed feelings, Remus." Tonks' voice was soft, pleading him to see the truth in her words. "I only knew pain and hurt, I wasn't getting anything in return and it became too much. I think… I think I haven't loved you for a while now. I guess I needed this date to really accept it."

Remus stumbled backwards as if he was hit with a spell. His feet reached one of the chairs and he collapsed in it, clutching his head between his hands. Tonks didn't want to pity him. She really didn't intend to but he was the perfect picture of misery. With head down, slouchy and languid, the ex-DADA Professor looked even more miserable in his faded patched robes. She abhorred the fact that her actions brought him so much sorrow for he didn't deserve it but the feeling of freedom and rightfulness was slowly and steadily pushing the guilt away. She was doing this for herself. And for Remus too; he deserved a woman who would love him the way she couldn't because her heart belonged to another now. Stolen right under her nose and she was sure she wouldn't have been able to prevent it even if she knew.

His voice was hoarse and his eyes filled with unleashed tears when he addressed her once again. "Is it because of somebody else? Have you found a person that reciprocates your feelings?"

Tonks winced mentally. Somehow she knew he was going to ask that and she wasn't sure she was emotionally prepared for the reaction her answer would bring.

"Yes, there is." She turned her head away; she couldn't stand to watch him break apart in front of her. "But I stopped loving you long before that and I realized my feelings for him when you tried to kiss me a while ago." Striking emerald eyes instead of warm brown ones, sarcastic teasing and half-crooked smiles instead of carefully picked out words and awkward posture. Her mind kept on comparing the two of them throughout the whole date with Remus and her heart had to choose. What would _he_ do if he was with her and not Remus, what would _he_ say, how would _he_ act. And her heart chose and it wasn't the last Lupin.

"How did that happen?"

"He was there for me when you were not." She knew she was digging the knife deeper and deeper but she owed him the truth and nothing less.

"So now what? You're going to run straight to his arms, is that it? This whole day was just a joke to you, wasn't it?" He was bitter and angry, and falling deeper in the pit of loneliness. Broken.

"Don't you dare mock me." Liquefied rage flowed through her veins. "My feelings for you were pure and strong but they're in the past now. I changed, Remus." She willed him to see, to understand. "Sirius died and I had to grow up, to realize that Voldemort is really back, and to see the extent of his power, of his evil reach. I'm not the same woman I was a year ago when I confessed my feelings for you. I _changed_. And my feelings changed with me." Tonks knew better now not to confuse puppy love with the real thing. She blindly trusted her instincts and took a leap of faith. It was time she faced the music.

"_He_ doesn't know but nonetheless I plan on being there for him if he needs me, the same way he was there for me." Was it a foolish thing to push Remus away now that he was returning her feelings? Maybe. Was it worth it to condemn herself to a life of unrequited love? Yes. For her little dark-haired ball of sunshine she was ready to sell her soul to the Dark Lord if that meant that he was going to be finally happy.

Heavy, oppressing silence stretched over the next few minutes.

"I… I don't know what to say." He took on staring out of the window, refusing to meet her gaze. It was dark and gloomy outside, raining like it never had before.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was no more than a whisper.

"I guess I was too late then." The hollow laugh felt unnaturally loud in the big room. "I better take my leave now. Tell Molly for me that I'm not going to make it for dinner tonight." With that Remus vacated his chair, took the few steps separating him from the kitchen door and grabbed the handle. "I'm sorry too, you know." And with one last sad smile he opened the door and left.

The sound of the front door opening and closing a moment later brought the Metamorphmagus out of her stupor. Reaching the same chair Remus was occupying a second ago she sat in it, bewilderment evident on her face. Tonks still wasn't sure what exactly had happened but she had the feeling that she would be back to being on good terms with Remus again, given some time for the hurt to fade away.

Morgana help her, love was so complicated.

And now that she had come clean about her feelings with Remus nothing was stopping her brain from analyzing what her heart was telling her. Tonks grimaced. Suddenly Remus' 'I'm too old for you' argument seemed valid in her situation. She was seven years older than him. Harry Potter. The boy she swore to protect with her life, to keep safe and out of harm's way. No, not a boy, not anymore. The past one year had shaped the last Potter into a dashing young man, filled with sorrow and bitterness and desperately seeking love and kindness to fill the aching gap deep in his soul. Sirius' death didn't help the healing of his soul at all. No, all the progress she had managed to achieve had disappeared in less than a blink and Harry was back to being closed off, angrier than before and blaming himself for her cousin's demise.

She got lost in her memories of him, remembering the first time she laid her eyes on him. Her "_Wotcher, Harry!"_ was received with a small genuine smile and a wave. The following few days spend in Grimmauld Place she found out she immensely enjoyed the company of the young Gryffindor, often telling him stories of her Auror training and sharing tips and tricky spells to add to his slowly growing arsenal. She tried to treat him like an adult, an equal; as the youngest Order recruit she knew how frustrating it was when somebody treated her like a child. Quite often that summer she overstepped the boundaries Dumbledore had placed, telling Harry of what was happening in the Ministry and in the Wizarding world and passing along any Order information she deemed important. Her ears still rang from the shouting matches she had had with Molly. Mother of seven children, Molly refused to see that Harry had outgrown her kids mentally and had no choice but to mature way earlier than her Ron if he wished to stand a chance against the forces and the power of the Dark Lord.

Then school had started and she had been afraid of losing the tentative friendship she had with the Gryffindor Seeker. But her fears had been unfound as she started exchanging weekly letters with him. First, it had been simple things like how incompetent and unfair his new DADA Professor was and how Snape was still the same git. It slowly evolved from that to asking about books and ideas for his DA club. Tonks had been more than happy to comply and wrote in response several long letters, trying to squeeze as much information in them as possible using an Auror code she taught Harry over the summer. Over time the letters became more personal. The two of them talked about everything and nothing – about their favourite foods and drinks, their fears and hopes, their dreams and nightmares, their future, if they thought they had one. When she found out about his Occlumency lessons with Snape she did everything she could to help him master it – books had been ordered and send, along with letters telling of her experience with the Mind Art as an Auror Trainee. Life had never seemed better to Tonks. Even though that Remus was still pushing her away she was happy to help Harry, to be there for him like nobody before had been. For him to have somebody to rely and lean on.

Over the Christmas holidays they became even closer. In a short few months Harry became one of the most important people in her life and she was his only mainstay in life, his only true confidant. Soon weekly letters were forgotten in exchange for three times a week conversations, carried out thanks to two special two-way dairies Tonks had gotten for herself and Harry as a Christmas gift, along with few rare mind magic books.

It had been magnificent to watch him grow into his own persona, pursuing knowledge he had never imagined existed before. To see him learn from his past mistakes and trying to reach new heights in his magic education. To hear how he strived to do his best regarding his school work, to be able to observe and direct his self-imposed training. To take pride in the man he became. And to reach the conclusion that Remus had long ago left her heart and that now a fifteen year old boy had it.

It had been hard; it still was.

Tonks sighed. Well, she could always be like a bigger sister to him. As long as Harry wanted her to be a part of his life she would manage every role he needed her to fill in for him.

A shuffling of feet interrupted her train of thought. Looking up she saw the person she was thinking about. His black hair was messy as always, his glasses half-way down his nose, making her itch to reach across and put them back in place. It was little odd that he was wearing the same clothes he wore last night for his birthday dinner. They had wrinkles all over them, as if he had slept in them and judging by his blood-shot green eyes that was exactly what he had tried to do.

He seemed restless, more than usual. His magic aura was heavy and dark with rage, sadness and depression, mixed with something Tonks recognized as desperation and hopelessness. She understood where the first three came from but the other two were a mystery to her. His eyes had lost their spark which had been there even after Sirius' death. He looked her up and down, taking in her pale peach blouse, dark faded jeans and strappy sandals, her falling apart bun and light make-up.

"Wotcher, Harry." Her usual greeting was ignored as he walked over to the table, sitting in the chair across hers.

"How was your date?" The smile that had taken over her features the moment she saw him slid off her face as she narrowed her eyes at him. His voice was cold and void of any kind of emotion and he never talked to her like that.

"Is something wrong?" Her Auror training was kicking-in, making her go over everything that had happened last night at his birthday that could make him angry at her.

"I guess congratulations are in order, huh." It was getting annoying how he ignored her words and her concern.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Her confusion was growing as she mentally discarded yet another conversation between the two of them in which Harry looked fairly happy. Well, as happy as he could be few weeks after the dead of his godfather.

"When are you going to tie the knot? Are we supposed to expect little Lupins crawling around soon?" Realization downed on her like cold water.

"You know about Remus asking me out last night." It was a statement, not a question. It wasn't that she wanted to keep it a secret but she never imagined that Harry would somehow find out about it. And his reaction puzzled her – he knew that she had feelings about the older man and he had encouraged her to keep believing Remus would say 'yes' soon. This resentment and anger was alien to their friendship.

"But of course, _Dora_." The mockery in his voice hurt more that the bone crushing hex she had received few months ago on an Order mission.

"Don't take that tone with me and tell me what the hell is wrong so that I can fix it!" Her voice took on a higher pitch.

"_You can't fix a broken heart, Dora!_" He yelled right back at her. Despair was heavy in the air as his magic searched for something, _anything_ to relive its possessor's suffering.

"W-what?" Tonks was frozen in disbelief. This was not happening, she was sure she was dreaming and she would wake up any moment now. She pinched herself for good measure. It hurt.

Noticing her gesture his face twisted into a pain filled grimace. "Are my feelings that repulsing to you that you wish you were dreaming?"

"No! No, of course not. I just have a hard time believing them." Wrong thing to say.

"I get it now." Harry pushed back his chair and stood up. "I was just your pet project." Any objections she was about to voice were interrupted as he continued, completely ignoring her tries to speak up. "What were you thinking when you started it, huh? I should learn Harry Potter's secrets? I should make him feel vulnerable and safe at the same time? I should make him trust me? _I should make him fall in love with me?_"

"No. Harry, please, listen. It wasn't like that. Just listen-"

"I don't want to bloody listen!" His magic was reacting creating a whirlwind around him, pushing chairs back and blowing away the few Order reports from the table. "I thought I was listening, Nymphadora. I thought I was hearing the special way you talked to me only, I thought I was learning stuff about you that nobody else knew. I thought I was seeing how you treated me differently that you did the others. I thought… I thought that you were having feelings for me. But I'm a fool, blind and stupid and gravely mistaken."

As much as his words hurt her, they also gave her the strength needed for her to push forward and try to reach him.

"I thought that you were here for me." He sounded small, lost and confused.

"But I am, Harry. I am." He was shaking his head.

Her father always used to tell her that sometimes all she needed were twenty seconds of bravery to accomplish something grand. She wasn't a Gryffindor but she could manage twenty seconds.

Tonks left her chair and walked around the table, every step bringing her closer to Harry. The wind was strong and the magic was cold and punishing but she kept on pressing forward. She kicked off her sandals and transfigured her peach blouse and jeans into something more comfortable and to her liking – filmy green sundress. Her Metamorphmagus abilities took over and her grey hair transformed into her natural light brown curls at the same time as her eyes turned deep chocolate brown color and her face took on the Black lineament she had inherit thanks to her mother. When she was little, barely a First year in Hogwarts, she had overheard few teachers discussing how she looked like a small copy of her aunt, Bellatrix. Apparently people tended to forget that Andromeda and Bellatrix could be mistaken for twins if not for the different hair color. Ever since Tonks learned to mask her resemblance to her aunt and her mother in any way possible. Very few people knew how she actually looked like and Harry was one of the few that had the honour of seeing the real her.

With hair blowing in every direction she stood in front of Harry. He looked torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer. Before he could decide, Tonks hugged him.

"I'm here. I always will be. It's not right but I love you. I shouldn't but I do. It's wrong but I don't care. And I should really push you away right now and let you find love in the arms of some girl your age but I can't. I care about you too much to simply let you go."

Harry lowered his head to rest on her shoulder and his arms slowly returned the embrace.

"What about Remus?"

"I went out on a date with him today." His arms tightened. "It simply made me understand how I longed for your presence and not for his, for your smile, your eyes, not his. How I'm in love with you and not with him." The wind died down.

"You're not lying to me to spare my feelings, are you?"

"No, Harry. I'm telling you the truth."

He pulled her closer once more before loosening his arms. He met her gaze unflinchingly, not a trace of guilt in his demeanor and smiled cheekily. "I know I'm good-looking but I wasn't aware you were so obsessed with me. I should be careful."

His teasing lifted the heavy atmosphere and Tonks tugged gently on his hair in response to his teasing.

"You, Harry, are silly." Her voice was warm and affectionate.

They stood like that for few minutes, just looking at each other, not saying anything, basking in each other's presence and magic.

"Now what?" He broke the embrace.

The question consisted of so many others. There was Remus, the Weasleys, school, Voldemort, the War.

"Doesn't matter. I'm here." She took his hand and entwined their fingers together. And it was enough.

* * *

I wanted to write something in which Harry is not always the strong one, in which he needs support and love and understanding. The characters might seem out of character but I think it fits the story.

What do you think?

Reviews are always welcomed.

-M.


	5. Ultionem sequax

**Theme:** funeral  
**Pairing:** Harry/Narcissa Malfoy nee Black **  
Rating:** T**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.**  
Warning(s):** Kinda dark. Mentions of death, sorta.  
**A/N:** I'm back o/ Sorry for the long delay, I was busy with exams. Anyways, thank you for the reviews; I'm glad you liked the last chapter. Also a thank you to the people who followed/added to favorites. As it is I have a poll on my profile page about the future of this collection so it will be greatly appreciated if you could drop by and vote. No more talking, on with the show.  
**Summary:** If it meant that she could have her revenge Narcissa could always do worse than bond with Harry Potter of all people.

* * *

**Ultionem sequax****  
**One-shot

Numb.

Stunned.

Horrified.

Shocked.

Shaken.

Cold. So cold. So bloody cold. She couldn't feel her fingers, they were frozen but then again she had been sitting here, more like kneeling once her legs gave out, staring at his name and not believing that this was the truth.

Her baby boy was gone, all gone. Dead. Taken from her. Monstrously murdered by a nameless killer in the middle of the night, _Death Eater_ brutally carved on his pale flesh, his grey eyes staring into nothingness. She could see him even with her eyes open, his image was stuck in her mind, flashing in front of her like a broken record again and again and again. Her little Dragon…dead.

The tears were frozen on her cheeks; her hair was in dismay, her clothes rumpled and dirty, reduced to rags. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Her little boy, her dear Draco was no longer with her, killed for the mistakes of his father, of the society they lived in, of the model he had to follow as a Malfoy heir and a member of the Slytherin House.

_Dead_.

The word had strange echo in her head as if bouncing from one ear to the other, never leaving the space of her mind, never giving her a moment of peace.

The September wind was cold, the ground on which she was kneeling was cold, she was cold, in her heart, deep in her bones, she was cold. The once refined Malfoy Lady was reduced to a soulless creature, whose gaze was unable to move away from the bold letters on the tombstone – _Draco Malfoy (1980-1998) Beloved son and fine young man. You will always be missed, my Dragon. _They mocked her, laughed at her, and reminded her that she had nothing else. Draco belonged to them now, to the dead, to the same ground under her feet, to the afterlife. Not to her, not anymore.

Nothing. That was all she had left. With Lucius' death in the Great Battle and the Ministry seizing every galleon and sickle they had, every mansion and small cottage, Draco was all she lived for. And now, four months later, she lost Draco too.

She thought they had it easy. Yes, they lost Lucius, lost all of their possessions but they had each other. They avoided Azkaban because Potter had spoken in their defense, something which Narcissa was ever grateful for; honour was a word that the last Potter lived by and, in the name of Merlin, she had been ecstatic when they were given full pardon. They had the chance to start anew, as a family of two. Draco was planning on finishing his education at Hogwarts and then pursuing a career in Healing Arts. With Narcissa's savings, those that the Ministry couldn't get their hands on because she had them under her maiden name, the last Malfoys bought a small apartment in the outskirts of London. It was simple, modest and cozy, quite different from the luxury and splendor they were used to in the Malfoy family manor but slowly they adapted. It was hard in the beginning, more so than she could ever imagine. They fought every day, wands forgotten in favor of sharp biting words, tears and slammed doors occurred at least once a day. They were scared, terrified but they had each other and it was enough.

They pulled through together. Until now.

An Auror found her last night, brought her to the Ministry so that she could identify the body. No signs of the killer, no evidence. Empty words, excuses, false understanding smiles and pats on the shoulder. An escort back to their…_her_ little apartment and suddenly the Silent witches were there, tending to her son's body, cleaning his wounds, brushing his blood streaked hair back to silver, dressing him in his best robes they could effort. They didn't let her interfere; the Aurors said it was for the best. She couldn't even take care of her son on his death bed. That was all she got. Silent witches and a grave.

He was supposed to be in Hogwarts. He was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to graduate and chase his dreams. He was supposed to find a nice witch and settle down, have a kid or two. He was supposed to outlive her. He wasn't supposed to die before her. She wasn't supposed to bury him with her own hands. But nothing went according to plan. It barely ever did since Voldemort started the First War.

Oh, how she cursed his soul. She wrongly had believed that Voldemort being Dark Lord and all will make the magical world better place to live in; less biased towards Dark witches and wizards and will grant them the freedom to be themselves with no more hiding. But it was a false promise, an illusion. They fought for his causes, for his dreams, for his revenge and they got nothing in return but broken families, dead friends and disgusted looks from the Light and Neutral wizarding folk. And now, nearly twenty years since her foolish decision to put her future in his hands, she was paying for her mistakes. Magic was punishing her by taking her only true love – her son.

When Draco had been born Narcissa was truly happy for the first time in her life. Her marriage to Lucius had been something their families had agreed on and she had no say in it. In a loveless relationship and empty manor Draco was like a little ball of sunshine, warming her heart and always making her smile with his silly antics. He was also an excuse to skip the more grotesque missions the Dark Lord gave his Death Eaters before he was defeated for the first time. She wasn't fond of his methods even then and after his revival she despised him even more – her son was forced to serve a madman, something which she could never stomach. And yet, some part of her still blindly hoped that things will end well and they will be able to celebrate all the holidays they couldn't before for fear of being send to Azkaban, that they will be able to teach their children and grandchildren all the wonders of elemental magic, the positive outcomes of wild magic and how to manipulate it, that they would be able to practice Dark rituals at home and relieve the call of Magic that if left alone could weaken them and kill them painfully. After all, there was a reason why her family's name was Black.

Foolish. She had been foolish then to follow Voldemort and she had been foolish now to think that the society will forgive and eventually forget because they had a hand in helping their beloved hero Harry Potter.

Because of that she had lost everything – her family, her home, her happiness, her pride and soon she was going to lose her life too.

It seemed a fitting scenario for her screwed life – to die next to her son's grave. Years ago just the thought of a possible outcome like this would had her screaming in outrage, her pride wouldn't have left her to die without first taking her revenge, head always held high. But her pride couldn't save her son and as it is it had no place in her life anymore; it served no purpose now.

And sweet revenge… Narcissa lacked everything for it. The Malfoy Lady had no idea where to start looking for the killer, she lacked money to hire the right people and besides she was sure that the culprit was a Light witch or wizard. The sickening carving on Draco's body was a dead giveaway. She had no power to reach him, the Aurors were no help at all and the public would side with the killer anyways so a newspaper article was out of the question.

Narcissa was well versed in the Dark Arts; it had been a mandatory part of her studies while she had been part of the Blacks, but her magic had weaken once again and she was afraid she didn't have much time left. Looking for the perpetrator by herself would take too long and was out of the question and giving up on her revenge seemed more tempting by the minute.

When had she become so weak?

Was it when she had learned of her arranged marriage? Or when Andromeda had left and she had lost her best friend? Had it been when the Dark Lord congratulated her on her pregnancy and informed her of his plans for her son? Was it when she had to keep her mask up those thirteen years while he had vanished? Maybe it had begun when Draco was marked and she couldn't help him avoid it and she had only realized it once she had lost him as well.

It was pure agony to feel how her magic was fighting to survive but was gradually weakening and she was slowly fading away with it. She hadn't practiced Dark magic or any rituals ever since Voldemort's return. His fractured soul had poisoned the family magic the Malfoy Manor had had and Narcissa always felt too dirty and repulsed to participate in any of the traditions after that. Four years abstinence proved to be too harsh on her otherwise fragile body and her magic couldn't find the strength to power her anymore.

When she was little she often happened to overhear people whispering about her, their spiteful words leaving a deep mark on her young mind. The braver dared to call her a demon's child. When her mother, Druella, was pregnant with her she had been cursed to never bear children again. Because of that Narcissa had been prematurely born and she had nearly died. Dark rituals and spells hadn't helped at all – only made things worse. But despite all the odds the only thing that was able to save her was her small magical core. The magic it contained turned out to be enough to sustain her small body until she grew up enough to be put on the bottle. Ironic how the same magic that had let her live now was killing her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she became aware of the distant but nonetheless familiar crack sound of apparition. Still, Narcissa refused to turn her head to see the face of the newcomer. Probably another bound by duty Auror had come to offer his empty of meaning condolences. Nothing mattered now, only her cold beating heart, her dying magic and the image of her son. Nothing else.

The sound of steps gradually became louder until the person was standing a meter or two behind her. After a moment of hesitation the person crossed the remaining space and stood right next to her kneeling form. Blinking as if in daze, Narcissa's consciousness registered plain dirty white muggle sneakers and jeans – she had been expecting black boots and red Auror robes.

Just as she was about to look up and face the intruder, the stranger sat next to her in an offhand manner. Black messy hair that looked like a bird's nest, round and too big for the person's face glasses and over-sized sweatshirt added to the visage of the mysterious person.

"Harry Potter." Maybe not so mysterious after all. Narcissa's voice was raspy and low. It hurt when she talked and she was surprised at the dryness in her mouth. How long had it been since she first came here? _Too long_ her mind supplied.

Striking emerald eyes met her gaze. Potter looked at her, eyes roaming over her face, taking notice of her tears, of the condition of her hair and a moment later of the state of her clothes. There was no pity in his eyes.

"Lady Malfoy."

He didn't offer any words of understanding and condolence and Narcissa silently congratulated him on that. He simply sat there and stared at the grave, his weary form in stark contrast with the determination etched on his face.

She had no idea how long they sat like that together in utter silence, the freezing touch of wind the only thing reminding her that she wasn't dreaming. It might have been mere minutes before he spoke again but to her it seemed like an eternity.

"I should have offered you the Black family home, it has better protection." His voice was soft and gentle, regret and self-hate reflecting in every word. "I should have made you a part of the Black family again. Or better yet, of the Potter's." He shook his head rather forcefully. "I should hav-"

"You did more than it was asked from you, Mister Potter." It was silly how she was the one offering him words of comfort but Narcissa knew that at least he had a chance of a normal life and this regret could ruin it for him.

He smiled ruefully at her. "Harry. I told you before to call me Harry. Calling me Mister Potter makes me feel as if I'm back at Hogwarts again and well…" he broke off, lost in memories. "Just call me Harry."

She found herself nodding without really meaning to. What was this boy doing to her? She was still cold and she was still hurting enough to want to die but her magic was somehow calmer now. Her brows furrowed in displeasure. Narcissa hated riddles.

"Why are you here?" She wouldn't have to ponder upon the riddle if he leaves as soon as possible.

"Draco and I, we… we started exchanging letters little after the Great Battle. Shocking, I know." Narcissa stared so hard at him she was sure she was about to see his insides. Letters? She knew nothing about letters. "It was supposed to be a one-time thing. He thanked me in his pompous way for saving his ass in the Room of the Requirement and for keeping the two of you out of Azkaban. I replayed back that I would have done that for anyone and that he shouldn't feel special. I thought it was over after that but somehow one of us would write the other once in a while three-four sentences, often about some fight we have had before this whole War that seemed stupid at that point."

The boy, no, the man next to her stopped talking and Narcissa wanted to reach out and shake him to make him go on. That was her Draco he was speaking about and every little piece of his life was important to her. Surprisingly she didn't demand of the Potter Lord anything and waited in silence until he got his thoughts together.

He took a glance in her direction as if suddenly embarrassed about his next words.

"As time went on I asked him if you needed help or money." He started playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, a nervous habit Narcissa concluded. "Believe it or not I don't agree with quite a lot of the new laws the Ministry is trying to pass and the way they deal with people in your position. In response I got the longest letter in my life about how I should learn not to ask such question, how I should start acting like a public power figure, how I should take responsibility and instead of asking him questions like that when I know the answers I should make things better. It was very… informative." The dark haired youth chuckled but it wasn't a happy sound.

"Do you know that he was the person that actually managed to convince me to go back and finish my education at Hogwarts and not jump head first in Auror training?"

Narcissa sat there shocked, tears welling up once again in her eyes. She had no knowledge of this side of her son.

"Anyways, the one thing he asked of me was to look after you when he can't do that anymore. If you ask me I should have done that sooner but damn that bloody pride you Malfoys have." He let go of his shirt and propped himself on the palms of his hands, head thrown back and eyes closed as if enjoying the non-existent rays of the sun.

Even in his death Draco was trying to provide for her, trying to shelter and save her. Narcissa was speechless. She knew her son loved her but as Draco grew up bit by bit he had started distancing himself from her, seeking his father's approval not hers. To know the means he had gone to make sure she was cared for was astonishing and once again Narcissa regretted her foolishness. What was she doing in return? She was busy swallowing in self-pity, surrendering her life and her well deserved and rightful revenge.

One lone tear escaped her left eye and Narcissa hastily brushed it away. She would always mourn her son but now it was more important that she could have a chance at punishing the killer. And while _Toujours pur_ was the official Black motto, _Ultionem sequax_ was the private motto very little people knew of.

She cleared her throat. "And how do you suppose you will do that?"

"I've been thinking about it ever since I heard about Draco's unfortunate… accident." He spat the word out. He didn't believe the lies of the Aurors either and a plan slowly formed in Narcissa's mind. "I'm sorry to say that the Malfoy name will end here. I'll make you a part of the Black family again. Because of Sirius I'm now Lord Black as well as Lord Potter and I'll put you under my protection. Any action towards you will be action towards me and I shall take care of any threats that come your way. It should be enough to discourage any attempts on your life."

It was more than Narcissa hoped for but it still wasn't nearly enough for her purposes.

"I will have to refuse your offer." His head turned around to face her so fast she was afraid he was going to snap his neck.

"Why?" Narcissa arched one elegant brow. None of the hot tirade she was waiting for came. Maybe Potter truly was starting to think like a Lord of two Houses.

"I refuse to be your pet project. I get enough fake sympathy as it is." With that she stood up, little shakily as her legs had frozen and she could barely move them, the unpleasant feeling of pins and needles assuring her that she still had them.

Potter was fast to get on his feet and steady her tremulous body. His hand was burning hot even through the fabric of her robes and unconsciously she leaned in to get some of that warmth. Shaking the pleasant feeling off, she took a step back from him and dislodged his hand from its place on her elbow.

His green eyes narrowed in displeasure and annoyance.

"No offence, Lady Malfoy, but you're in no condition to walk let alone protect yourself."

"Oh, and what could you offer me, Mister Potter?"

"I already told you what I-"

"I find it insufficient." She had to force her voice to sound harsher. She was manipulating him but she had to if she wanted her revenge.

He looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "Insufficient?" he looked and sounded dumbfounded. "What more do you want? I have enough gold to give you anything you will ever want."

"Anything?" The wind grew faster and Narcissa found herself taking a step towards the warm body of the young man in front of her.

"Anything." He was honest, no lies in his clear green eyes, no deception.

"Will you? Will you buy me clothes and give me as much gold as I want? Will you provide for every whim of mine? Will you look after my health and take care of me? Will you let me dictate the state of the house and how it should be decorated?"

"I will." He sounded little amused by her questions but they served a purpose he wasn't aware of, yet.

"Will you let me teach you the ways of the Old families? Of the purebloods? Of the traditions _your_ own parents used to do? Will you follow the way a man with your titles should act? Will you be willing to be taught what it means to be Lord Black? Lord Potter?"

He was contemplating her words now; she could literally see his thought process through his eyes. He was looking for the reason she could be asking such questions but Narcissa was sure he wouldn't be able to figure it out for now. He lacked the proper training to notice such subtle manipulations.

"I will." He was still sure of his words but suspicion slowly filled his gaze.

"Will you let me be the Lady of the House, no matter which one, because I refuse to be anything less?" She stopped for a bit. It all depended on his answer to her last request. "Will you let me have my revenge?"

It was up to him now. She had done what she could. He kept on looking at her, realization dawning on his face.

"Is this all about Draco? Lady Malfoy I…" He was troubled; one of his hands swiped the hair out of his eyes showing briefly the lightning bolt scar he was famous for. "Revenge is not going to bring him back." Narcissa kept quiet. Potter still hadn't answered her question.

Uneasy silence fell on them. Yet, he didn't remove his eyes from her, he didn't look repulsed and he hadn't left. Narcissa thought it was a good sign.

"I will but under one condition." She was trembling. Was it from anticipation or cold she couldn't care less about.

"Whoever the murderer is, we are sending him or her to Azkaban. I refuse to kill." Narcissa could push him again but she had learned that too much pushing would eventually lead to break and she couldn't have that here.

Azkaban. It will never be enough to avenge Draco's death but maybe she could somehow sneak in a poison or a curse. For now it will have to do.

She nodded her head in agreement.

"Then, I will." Narcissa released the breath she wasn't aware she was holding.

One grey tendril extended from her magical core and connected with the white one from Potter's core. Warmth washed over her body and her magic sang with pleasure. Light engulfed the two of them in a sparkling white ball of magic threads, connecting them and creating a variation of the Unbreakable Bond between them. The pressure and the sheer power of the bond weighted heavily on her and Narcissa found her legs giving away for the second time that way.

Before she could collapse strong arms closed around her and held her upright. Slowly the ball became smaller and smaller until it was fully absorbed by the two of them.

"What was that?" His voice held less anger that she thought it will and more amazement than she expected. Nevertheless, Potter didn't look too pleased with what she had done.

"That, Lord Potter, is a wandless variation of the Unbreakable Vow. It's usually used by future spouses that truly love each other because it binds them for life and if one of them is lying the repercussions are dire for both participants. But because of the few death cases and the wandless aspect it was labeled by the Ministry as Dark and thus forbidden."

"I hate being manipulated. I've had more than enough people trying to stir the direction in which my life should go." Now he truly did sound angry and even though he was clearly unhappy he didn't let go of his hold on her; she was still shaking and the cold was quickly making her limbs useless. Prolonged stay on the cold ground in nothing but summer robes was not the most intelligent thing she could do.

"Would you have agreed otherwise?"

"Of course I would have. We might not have really been friends with Draco but nobody deserves what he got."

"I apologize. It will not happen again, I had to make sure and this was the only way." Feeling steadier, Narcissa slowly pushed away from him and didn't comment when he caught her elbow once again to keep her stable.

He sighed and then grimaced.

"So, um… should I call you Lady Black now or will it be Lady Potter?" Merlin, he sounded really awkward. She'll have to fix that too.

"Narcissa will do,…Harry." His chuckle reminded her of Draco's when her son would allow himself to be happy. Maybe this would turn out better than she thought.

"What now?"

"Now I need a hot bath and warm clothes."

"No, I mean the revenge."

"I know. But we shall take one step at a time. And that means lots of shopping, etiquette lessons and going back to Hogwarts."

His groan of displeasure was like music to her ears. She had a purpose now, not only her revenge but she had a family to take care of.

Narcissa spared one last glance at her son's grave and then demanded her hot bath.

Merlin bless Draco's soul for his good thinking.

* * *

Well here it is. This is more... sad than I actually wanted it to be but somehow it turned like that so I went with the flow. The fact that I had trouble finishing it is another matter all together :D

From my research_ Ultionem sequax_ stands for pursuing revenge or something similar. _Toujours pur _of course means 'always pure'._  
_

Don't forget to leave me a review and to vote. Thank you.

-M.


	6. Give me wings I can fly with

**Theme:** secret  
**Pairing:** Harry/Hermione **  
Rating:** K+/T**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.**  
Warning(s):** notthinking!Ron  
**A/N:** This should have been up sooner, but oh well ;3 Thanks for the love on my previous one-shot ^^ _Read and review~_ **  
Summary:** If there was one place where Harry truly felt at home he'd say it was in the vast, endless sky. But if he had to choose one place on Earth he'd answer "Wherever Hermione is."

* * *

**Give me wings I can fly with  
**One-shot

It was always a joy to be in the sky. To feel the wind blowing in his face as he was pulling one of the numerous stuns that nearly gave McGonagall a heart attack once. But currently his Transfiguration Professor was nowhere near the Quidditch pitch and Harry had nothing to worry about. Another reckless loop followed by a barely avoided meeting with the ground made his blood pump and his heart soar with happiness.

There was no other feeling like flying. People often assumed that he loved Quidditch but they were wrong. Harry loved flying more than anything. Quidditch was just a way he could accomplish his heart's desire. It wasn't once when he would stall going after the Snitch just so that he could keep on flying. The chase was nice, speeding against the opposing team's Seeker. But flying was a different matter all together.

Flying was magnificent. Flying was like… magic. Pure, untouched magic waiting to be discovered and controlled. But Harry knew that it could never be coerced; it was wild and free, barely contained lightning ready to strike, like a wave ready to topple over the small ship standing in her way. And at the same time it was so much more. It was the feeling of freedom, of no regrets and no concerns, the feeling of weightlessness, of happiness and supreme delight, of simply _being_ and not thinking about anything else.

Flying was home.

It was the only place he felt he truly belonged to. If it was possible he would have spend every breathing moment high in the air, breathing in the crisp wind, enjoying the playful caresses of the sun on his face, pulling off yet another dangerous maneuver, urged on by his adrenaline sky-rocking to go faster and faster, until he felt as if he could reach the clouds, the starts and the moon, the sun. Until he was delirious with pleasure, with happiness, with the feeling of rightfulness and belonging, of home.

And then he would let go of his broom, his legs the only thing keeping the two of them together and he would start his free fall. The higher he is when he starts the better. And he would fall and he would laugh like never before. The blood in his ears would muffle all sound except the sound of his fast beating heart, his robes swept by the wind, tugging and twisting and trying to get them off his body, hands spread wide open and laughing, sending goofy smiles to the sun. Then he would close his eyes and simply _feel_, enjoy.

His mind would be empty of every trouble, of every problem and argument, of everything he was forced to deal with against his wishes, against his will. He would be free.

And he was free if even only for a moment but it was enough.

Smiling, he twisted his body around, bringing the broom once again beneath him and latched his hands onto the broom handle, pulling up and willing it to not let him crash. He could feel the magic in the broom bending to his will, to his soft spoken words and the broom leveled with the ground with no struggles just at the right time. The tops of his Quidditch boots brushed gently against the grass of the pitch, his speed slowly decreasing from his seemingly suicidal fall.

Two slow full circles of the pitch later, Harry was almost down from his high. The rush was still there, in his limbs and bones, in his heart, in the exited buzzing of his broom but it was tamer now as if it knew that there was time and place for everything. It was never truly gone, just waiting for the right moment, a moment like the one just mere seconds ago. And the energy of that moment would power up Harry for days, even weeks ahead, until he felt the need to pull off another free fall.

If only he had wings.

He wouldn't have to sneak out so early on Sunday morning to feel free. He would do it every day because the sky was his home.

One last glance at the rising sun and Harry turned his broom in the direction of one of the Gryffindor stands. On one of the top benches sat a brown curly head, engulfed in a red and gold blanket. As he got closer, Harry noticed few books, stacked on top of each other, no doubt class related, along with few pieces of parchment and ink. A quill was used to hold the messy bun on top of the person's head, revealing a heart shaped face with a little cute nose, rosy cheeks and brows furrowed in concentration. And judging by the lip, abused between the white teeth, the girl was deep in thought.

Harry slowly and quietly got off his broom and let it sit on one of the lower benches. With careful steps he made his way over to the girl, who never gave any indication of hearing him. Then, with a devilish smile and barely contained mirth, Harry sat rather forcefully on the bench next to her. The heavy tome that had her attention slipped between her fingers like water and fell with a loud tump. One had reached for her wand while the other squeezed the blanket where her heart was beating a wild sonata. Surprised wide hazel eyes met his green gaze, tension giving way to annoyance and relief.

"Harry James Potter!" She fixed him an accusing glare. "How dare you scare me like this?" As she bent to retrieve her fallen book, no doubt very precious if the old, faded texture of the cover was taken in consideration, Harry couldn't help but smile again. She was such an adorable mess and it was so typically her – books, parchment, quills; the smell of old pages and the promise of knowledge, all warped in a cozy blanket, with a hint of vanilla.

Raising his hands in surrender, for she was still clutching her wand, Harry put on his most innocent look. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to scare you; I thought you had heard me."

Hermione Granger kept looking at him, a scowl marring her features before silent laughter racked her small frame. "With that face on I bet that you, dear Mister Harry Potter, are able to charm the socks off even from an Acromantula." A smile light up her whole face even as she poked him with her wand in something resembling revenge.

"Come now, 'Mione. Don't let Ron hear you say that." The two of them shared a laugh remembering the amusing, for bystanders that is, phobia that Ronald had.

"But no, really, that mental imagine was something that I definitely could live without." Harry shuddered and cursed his imagination.

"That's what you get for trying to scare me." Hermione stuck her tongue at him and opened her book again.

"How very mature of you, 'Mione. Really, what would McGonagall think if she could see you now – her favorite student and responsible Prefect acting like a 5-year old." The dark haired youth teased, bumping her shoulder with his.

"Oh, please. We're both aware what time it is. Besides, I'm sure she'll be more concerned with your flying habits and death stuns than with my momentarily lapse of character."

Harry grinned from ear to ear.

"So you were watching?"

When she didn't answer he stole the book from her hands. She threw him an annoyed glance but the playfulness in her eyes gave her away.

"Of course I was watching, Harry. Somebody has to make sure that you don't meet the ground." It was the same thing she had told him when she first encountered him pulling one of his experimental free falls. She had been scared and frantic, and had given him the biggest lecture ever. But after that she came very time he needed to get away from everything. He called her partner in crime, she called it being concerned. Either way, it wasn't a rare case when they had sneaked in the early morning so that Harry could get his dose of freedom.

It didn't matter if it was raining or snowing and today's freezing April morning was enough proof for that. As if hearing his thoughts, Hermione burrowed further in her cozy looking blanket.

They stood like that for a while, each lost in their thoughts and enjoying the beautiful pastel picture the sun was painting with its rays over the blue canvas that was the sky. Over the past few months they had enjoyed a good number or sunrises but each and every one of them was unique and superb. Like the saying that you could never step in the same river twice, it was true that you could never witness the same sunrise more than once. Somewhere in that Harry was sure that there was magic.

The wind swiped the hair from his forehead and for the first time in hours Harry felt the cold bite of the April weather. Until then he had the adrenaline pushing the cold away but now he was sitting and his body was cooling down, the sweat was sticking to him like a well made glove and the wind turned from refreshing to freezing in seconds.

Noticing his shiver, Hermione uncurled from her warm nest and started arranging her books and school supplies in her bag, which was sitting on the other side of the bench. In less than a minute Harry found himself covered with a red blanket, holding his broom in one hand, while his other was occupied by two of Hermione's books walking towards the Gryffindor Common room. The Gryffindor Prefect herself had on thick robes and a scarf around her neck, clutching the old tome close to her chest as if it had the power to ward off the cold, her bag swaying gently back and forth with her steps.

They walked in silence but on mornings like this one they didn't find the need to chat about anything. The silence wasn't awkward or heavy, it was peaceful and exactly what they needed.

They crossed the distance between the Quidditch pitch and Hogwarts quicker than their usual leisurely pace but then again they were both cold. Once they were inside the stone walls of the castle and the warm glow of the torches welcomed them Harry let out a relieved sigh and rolled his shoulders. He needed a hot shower as soon as possible or he would be stiff the whole day. And if that happened Hermione would probably make him see Madam Pomfrey and Harry didn't want to see more of the hospital wing than absolutely necessary.

Hermione stopped behind one of the gargoyles standing watch in the hallways and pulled out of her bag the Marauder's map. Few whispered words later and little snooping here and there, they made their way to the Gryffindor Tower without encountering any trouble.

The Fat Lady was far from happy to be woken up this early but nonetheless she let them pass. After all it wasn't the first time they had pulled something like that and she knew that whatever scolding she would give them would make no difference.

Once inside the Common room, Harry and Hermione split, each to their respective dorm to take a much needed hot shower, with the promise that they would meet for breakfast in one hour.

Opening the door to the Sixth Year Gryffindor students sleeping chambers Harry was assaulted by Ron's snoring and Dean's mumbling. Harry shook his head; those two never learned the use of a Silencing Spell in a dorm with four other boys. Slowly and carefully, not to wake somebody up, Harry reached his bed and pulled the hangings sideward. His bed was still messy from all the tossing and turning he had done throughout the night but Harry didn't bother fixing it as he knew that the House Elves would be more than happy to put everything in order, so the last Potter just tossed his red blanket on top of it, grabbed some clean clothes and went into one of the two bathrooms.

He locked the door behind him and tossed off his clothes in the nearest basket designed to transport the dirty laundry to the washing room. Harry took off his glasses and put them on the pile of white, fluffy towels next to the sink. Without wasting any more time he jumped into the shower and turned the water on. It was hot and burning, steam forming in minutes and his skin was turning red but Harry refused to change the temperature. It was driving the cold from his bones away and it felt good. After a minute or two under the stifling hot water he turned the temperature down to his usual showers. The cool water was like a balm to his skin and Harry sighed in pleasure. He stayed like that for a while. Head under the shower spray, leaning on his forearms against the wall, water cascading over his body like a waterfall. It was almost as good as flying but it was missing the lack of responsibilities the sky gave him.

When he couldn't get away and go fly just for the sake of flying, Harry would often take long showers, nearly every time forgetting about the time, just enjoying the feeling of the water against the skin of his neck and back, over his torso, down his arms and legs, until Ron would bang on his door, shouting how he was turning in a bloody girl. Then his peaceful dream would shatter and he was forced to get back to reality.

Eyes closed, Harry reached to take the sandalwood shampoo he used lately. It smelled nice and it had a bonus in the form that his female best friend complimented him on it. Lathering his head and massaging his scalp with the shampoo Harry let his thoughts wander. As always these days the first thing that popped in his head was the image of Hermione. Snippets of her dressed in nothing but her adorable yellow pajamas, how she would bite her lower lip, her rosy cheeks, the glint in her eyes when she was right, her laugh when she would recall some stupid thing they had done…

Harry groaned and washed the shampoo out of his hair. His mind had the uncanny ability to torment him in ways no other being could ever hope to achieve. Washing his body his hand lingered on the scar left by the basilisk. He was scared then, he had a reason to, but why was he afraid now? Why couldn't he just tell her?

_Because,_ he answered his own question and by now he was sure he was going mad, _she likes Ron and I have nothing to do there. _

Harry had seen the way she looked at Ron whenever he and Lavender were attached to the hip, which was fairly common the past few months. There was sadness and want in her eyes and Harry always ached to embrace her when he would notice her little fake smile that could fool everyone but him. His feelings for Hermione would be his knowledge only, his secret.

Disliking the gloomy storm in his mind, Harry turned off the shower, grabbed one of the bigger white towels and dried his body with it. Dressed in clothes that finally fit him, courtesy of the Weasley twins and a bet he lost, the Boy-Who-Lived put his glasses on and swiped the mirror clean. He didn't see anything else but his green eyes. He always did that, trying to remember how his mother would look with them.

"You look dashing, my dear, but you might want to try your hair a bit." The mirror advised in its best motherly voice.

Smiling despite the conflict behind his eyes, Harry used the towel and got rid of most of the water in his hair. Not even bothering to brush it, after all the Potter hair and a comb didn't go well together, Harry unlocked the bathroom door, grabbed his wand and made his way downstairs, waving hello to Neville in the process.

Descending the stairs he was met with the most unpleasant scene this early on a Sunday morning – Ron and Hermione arguing. He could feel the headache building.

"-lem, Hermione?" His fellow Quidditch team mate and friend was already red in the face.

Hermione waved her arms around, clearly irritated. "Please, I don't have a problem. The problem is that you are starting to act like a moron even to your friends. All you care about these days is sucking face with her." With that Hermione pointed at Lavender, who was sitting in one of the couches, clearly unhappy with the direction the conversation was going to.

Ron clenched and unclenched his fists and looked straight at Hermione as if she was the enemy. Harry knew that face and it usually meant that his friend was about to do something either very brave or very stupid. In this case, Harry was betting on the second.

"Ron, don't." Harry tried to warn the Gryffindor Keeper but his words fell on deaf ears.

"You know what Hermione, I'm sick of this. I'm sick of you constantly breathing down my neck for every little thing, you're not my mother. You're just bloody jealous." Hermione froze.

"Jealous? Of you?" her voice sounded surprised and unbelieving, bordering on hysterical.

"Of my relationship. I'm sorry that there's nobody that would date a bossy know-it-all like you but then again you always have your nose stuck in a book somewhere in the depths of the library that I'm not really surprised; it's not attractive at all. Always commanding and telling people what to do, when to laugh, how to walk. You're bloody annoying and I bet that you'll die of old age, all alone, surrounded by your cats and dusty books."

Lavender let out a gasp, Harry was equally flabbergasted and even angry.

"I can't believe you, Ronald. After all we have been through…" she shook her head, brown hair flying everywhere. "And I thought that our friendship meant something to you." With that she turned her back to him and stormed out of the room.

Ron turned to look at him and was met by his angry accusing green eyes.

"What?" the red head tried to defend himself. "You heard her, mate, she's going barmy."

"I did but you're wrong." Harry left to follow Hermione but stopped at the portrait and turned back to address his other best friend. "Someday, Ron, your mouth is going to get you in such a mess that you'll never be able to get out of it." With that he went to find Hermione.

One floor down, four corridors later and few empty classrooms Harry found his obsession sitting on the cathedral of one of the older classrooms, which had been long forgotten. She was clearly crying – her shoulders were shaking and there were the barely muffled sobs.

Harry wasted no time in crossing the remaining space between them and engulfed her in a heartwarming hug. She stiffened for a moment before relaxing in his hold.

"What do you want, Harry? To tell me that Ron was right, is that it?" her voice was shaky and small and so unlike the strong and brave Hermione he knew.

Harry tightened his arms around her frame. "No. I'm here to tell you that he's an idiot in love and that you should forgive him." Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him, hurt evident in her glassy gaze. "After you jinx him few times and make him publicly apologize of course." That brought a smile to her face and even a little giggle left her lips.

"But he was right you know." She bit her lip again. It had become a nice red color.

The Gryffindor Seeker furrowed his brows. "No, Hermione, he's-"

"I mean the part about me being jealous of what he has." It was taking a lot of her to say this and Harry for once kept quiet, it seemed pretty important that she get it off her chest. "It's just not fair how he could have what I want, sharing in the mutual attraction and love that he and Lavender have for each other."

She looked down and then looked him in the eyes again, determination visible in her whole posture.

"Can I tell you a secret, Harry?" He simply nodded.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm in love with somebody and well, I don't know how to tell him. It took me a while to realize it and I think I've been in love with him for some time. I've known him for a long time and I don't know what I will do if he doesn't feel the same and walks away." Here she stopped as if drawing on what little was left of her famous Gryffindor courage. "That person is you."

His heart stopped beating. He was dreaming. Better yet he felt as if he was flying. Without thinking about it Harry kissed her. It was soft and gentle, innocent even if it wasn't for the feelings burning through his lips, leaving promises on hers. Pulling back he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, then on her other one, on her cute button of a nose and finally on her forehead.

"Harry? What are you doing?" Hermione stammered, she was blushing and lost for words and Harry felt as if he was in the air again.

"Kissing my girlfriend." And her breathtaking smile was his free fall.

Maybe he had lied. The sky wasn't his only home, as long as Hermione was by his side he had a place on Earth where he belonged to.

* * *

Well, here's a deliriously happy Harry :D Personally, he makes me want to fly as well. Ah, well, too bad that my broom refuses to let me taste what it is like to be high in the sky.

The poll is still on.

Reviews make me burst with joy and serve as my muse. Leave me one, dear reader ;)

-M.


	7. Thestrals, Heliopaths and Luna

**Theme:** lost  
**Pairing:** Harry/Luna Lovegood**  
Rating:** T**  
Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.**  
Warning(s):** Mentions of blood but nothing serious.  
**A/N:** My muse went little bit of poof! on this one. I knew how I wanted to end it but I had no idea how to start it. And the fact that I couldn't find a decent song to listen to while writing it was also a part of the problem. I can't seem to write without music ;c Also, I want to thank you for the support!  
**Summary:** Having a tête-à-tête with Luna was always weird in a strangely good way but even Harry couldn't predict where one of those conversations would lead him. Then again, it was Luna so he shouldn't have been so surprised.

* * *

**Thestrals**, **Heliopaths and Luna**  
One-shot

It was still sunny outside, as sunny as November could be. His black wool cloak did next to nothing to save him from the harsh cold weather and Harry clenched it tighter around his shaking frame, trying desperately to push the cold away. After few more painstakingly slow steps the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain scowled and stopped. Was he a wizard or not?

A flick and a twist of his wand later combined with a muttered spell and Harry was enjoying the magic of a simple Warming Charm. Living with the Dursleys had really made him have no concern about his well-being as well as not to think for himself. No wonder he ended up so often in the Hospital Wing. He rolled his stiff shoulders and sighed in pleasure. It wouldn't last long but it would do until he reached the place he had in mind. With that Harry continued his march towards the Forbidden Forest, an array of leaves dancing around him as the wind grew stronger.

Once he neared Hagrid's Hut, Harry changed his direction little to the left and kept on walking until he entered the forest. Tall ancient trees, seeped in magic greeted him with their skeletal branches and hollow songs. Thick roots made him way and curious eyes watched him from the shadows. The wind died down to a barely there whistle and Harry could hear the endless sounds and chatter that was the forest. Slowly the tension and the cold eased from his body as he continued his walk, his steps became smaller and slower because he was no longer in a rush. Here nobody could stop and talk to him and interrupt his walk to his destination. He needed a break. Somewhere where he could sit and think, away from everybody, and completely relax and rest without he heavy stares of his two best friends. The forest provided all that and more.

The irony didn't escape Harry and he smiled. There were times in the past when the Forbidden Forest was the source of his greatest fears and nightmares, a place of dark creatures and death. But now it was his only sanctuary. Well, the person he was meeting might have done something to make it so.

Harry loved Hermione and Ron, he really did. They were his best friends, they have been with him through all his adventures in Hogwarts and he wasn't sure he would have survived them all if not for them. But after what happened in the Department of Mysteries and Sirius's death… they were suffocating him. Hermione would constantly watch him, sometimes more subtly than others but the last Potter would always feel it, waiting for Harry to crack, always probing him to talk about Sirius and his feelings. Ron would act wary and try not to anger him, walking on eggshells around him but that was Ron and he never really was successful at looking after other peoples' mental health.

He had changed. Seeing Sirius die because of him had changed him. Feeling Voldemort posses him had changed him. Learning of the stupid Prophecy had changed him.

He was grateful for his friends' concern, he appreciated their efforts to help him, but grief was something neither of them had any experience with. And while he wished there was somebody he could talk with about Sirius and the events at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione wouldn't be that person. Her analytic behavior along with her obsession for solving things the way they say in the books would only make her ask more and more questions, whose answers Harry didn't know, insisting that that he should try this and that to get over it. And her ceaseless questioning got on his nerves and was one of the reasons why Harry refused to talk to her about it.

Harry wasn't really sure he wanted to get over it.

And Ron… Ron would slap him on the back, tell him everything was alright and offer him a game of chess or Exploding Snap. His ginger head friend would provide the escape of the morbid talk but Harry _did_ need somebody he could talk to. To just sit and listen, not to ask questions, not to come up with ways he could overcome his grief or offer false encouragement.

To just listen.

Things, Harry knew, were far from alright. He had lost the only parental figure he hoped he could have, Death Eaters were breaking free every other day and racking chaos on unsuspecting wizards and muggles, and Voldemort was getting stronger with every passing day. There was no running from it now. Harry was the one destined to kill him or die trying.

Harry grimaced. He really didn't fancy dying.

Nothing was really alright. And he was lost in the middle of it.

On top of all that, Hermione wouldn't leave him alone about the Potion book he found. It was true that some of the spells written on the side could be dangerous and Harry did agree not to test them on his fellow classmates before he knew what they do and maybe after that as well, but nonetheless Hermione viewed the book as a cheating method and the fact that the added instructions helped Harry to achieve better grades didn't sit well with her. Thus she saw it as her obligation to nag him to return the book every time somebody mentions Potions.

It was tiresome to be constantly in some argument with one of his friends, sometimes even with the two of them at once.

His nose twitched and he caught the coppery smell of blood. Ah, so it was one of those days. With that Harry continued walking forward instead of taking the right fork.

Ever since Malfoy broke his nose and Madam Pomfrey had fixed it, Harry noticed that it was much more sensitive to smells. It was unnerving how fast he could identify people by the way they smell before even seeing them. But it also proved to be helpful and Harry didn't see the harm in it, so he put off his visit to the Hogwarts Healer.

Malfoy. Another person that had decided to make his life complicated more than it already was. Harry furrowed his brows as he thought over the enigma that the Malfoy Heir presented. There was definitely something suspicious about the way the blond wanker acted and the conversation he had overheard in the train compartment only served to egg Harry on. He knew he was onto something, but he had no idea what. His obsession with Malfoy and his stalking was another reason for his recent non-stop arguments with Ron and Hermione. At least Ron supported him little bit on that one.

But he wasn't able to prove anything with Snape snooping around as much as Harry did. It wasn't enough that the greasy git was now the new Defense against the Dark Arts Professor thus ruining the only subject Harry loved, no, he had to go ahead and prevent every attempt Harry made to catch Malfoy in the act. It was frustrating at best and Harry had started to think that maybe there was a person he hated more than Snake-face.

Harry stopped, racked his hands through his hair and pulled harsh on his locks. Time to stop thinking about all that and focus on why he was here – which was to rest and relax a bit, or maybe to have a decently weird but hopefully nice conversation with somebody.

The trees became taller and darker; the path was no longer a path but a small trail among the wild bushes. The forest was denser the further Harry ventured into it and only his familiarity with it helped him keep calm and collected. Freaking out seemed like a legit reaction especially once he stumbled on hoof trails in the soft ground. But those weren't centaurs' footprints so Harry spared them no mind.

After a while the air changed. It was no longer cold and biting but more warm and September like. There was still the chill November was famous for but it had mellowed down. The change had to do with the numerous trees surrounding Harry and keeping him safe from the cold; the magic sustaining the forest and the creatures living in it also had a hand in the otherwise unnatural temperature change.

The closer he got to his destination the stronger the smell of blood became. Harry used it as reference point and followed it until the forest uncovered a big green glade, hidden otherwise among thorny bushes and intertwined branches. In the middle of it stood a herd of thestrals, less than twenty, with few little ones, all chewing the blood covered meat that was being given to them by a pale blond-headed girl. Few of the thestrals closer to him lifted heads and raised vast, black wings in greeting. Harry smiled in return and patted the black glossy coat of the little foal that nudged him.

"Hello, Harry." Luna's clear, dreamy voice reached him.

"Hello to you too, Luna." The Ravenclaw girl smiled her brilliant pensive smile and turned her attention back to the winged horses.

Harry looked at her. Her hair was down and was swaying gently with the movements of her head; she had no scarf or cloak on, no shoes either. The sleeves of her jumper and of her chemise were both rolled up, enabling her to thrust her hand into one of the many buckets with meat with no problem. On a second glance, she was already covered to her elbows with blood and she had droplets on her naked feet. She didn't seem to mind and as she laughed when one of the foals licked at her arms Harry thought that maybe she had done it on purpose. Knowing Luna the way he did, that was most probably the case.

Harry looked around the clearing once more and breathed a small sigh of relief when he spotted her clock and shoes, along with her school bag sitting not that far away from the center. It wasn't that often now but some of her fellow housemates still insisted on bullying her and hiding her stuff and Harry had feared that today was one of those days. There was a small spring to his steps as he went and left his clock next to hers.

He couldn't help but smile as he listened to Luna's quiet voice telling stories to the thestrals, often laughing when one of them would lick or nudge her for more food. Harry wasted no time in rolling his sleeves even though it wasn't that warm, but it was preferable to casting Cleaning Charms on his clothes – the blood never seemed like it was really gone, and he had no intention of giving some poor House Elf a heart-attack, and joined Luna in feeding the herd.

The whole procedure had a strangely calming effect on Harry if he could ignore the bloody concept of it. But over the years he had learned to ignore many things, his comfort and needs rarely took any heed.

It was peculiar in the beginning, talking with Luna on random days in the forest. Harry hadn't planned on it; they rarely talked in school as there was no DA this year for weekly meetings.

It was after one of his arguments with Hermione concerning Sirius when Harry stormed off from the Gryffindor Tower and took a rather reckless and dangerous stroll in the Forbidden Forest. At some point the trees started to look all the same and Harry got lost and all the more frustrated and angry. And then, out of nowhere, Luna came, riding on the back of the biggest thestrals Harry had seen so far. She didn't ask any questions, nor did she offer any answers. She simply led him to the clearing and then devoted her whole attention to the thestrals.

Over the weeks, when he had a tough day and everything seemed too much Harry would find himself in the Forbidden Forest, looking for his little piece of Heaven. His Heaven, around dangerous magic and winged horses, symbols of death, and around Luna's mystical creatures and hummed songs. Luna would not always be there but then the herd would be enough. They would let him get close even though he had no food with him, he would pet the small ones and play with them, and sometimes, just sometimes, he would ride the older ones and pretend that everything was alright.

But he was sick of that as well. Pretending wouldn't bring Sirius back nor would it defeat Voldemort instead of him.

Once they were done Harry made a bowl sized hole in the ground with his wand and filled it with a simple _Aguamenti_. Some scrubbing later, accompanied with a gentler version of the Cleaning Charm, and Harry's hands were blood free once more.

He sat on the ground next to their stuff and spread his legs. Luna was busy playing with the foals in a twisted 'tag-you're-it' game, which involved shrieking, blood prints, hair twisting and spread hands or wings. Even after few observation of the game Harry wasn't sure what the rules were.

One of the younger foals nearly climbed in the Gryffindor's lap in his desire for attention. Harry rolled his eyes but nevertheless succumbed to the wish. Some pulling and pushing until the two of them were comfortable and Harry started petting the little thestrals, careful not to apply too much pressure on his still fragile bones.

There was some eerie beauty in the black winged horse. It was skeletal looking, with white, glassy, pupil-less eyes, and bat-like wings. It was sinister, but also magnificent. Much like death itself.

The foal lifted his head and looked at Harry as if he had heard his thoughts and clearly disapproved. Harry shook his head and continued to pet him.

Half an hour later, Luna sat next to him, clearly winded and exhausted, but thankfully clean, if one didn't count the few twigs and leaves in her hair, with sparkly eyes and happy expression. She pulled her knees to her chest, hugged her legs and let her head fall on them, staring at Harry through the strands of her hair. Her toes wiggled in the grass.

"Do you want to talk Harry? I think you finally got rid of the Wrackspurts." Her eyes, as much as was visible of them, were huge and dreamlike, with little swirls of sparkle and magic.

Harry cracked a smile; in other words he was no longer debating if he should ask her or not.

"How did you… how did you get over your mother's death?" Harry winced at the end, it wasn't exactly a nice question to ask or answer but Luna simply blinked owlishly at him.

"I didn't." She remarked off hand. "Well not alone, no. The Heliopaths helped me."

It was Harry's turn to blink stupidly and rack his brain for any knowledge of a creature called Heliopath. Hadn't she said once something about Fudge's army of Heliopaths? The green eyed teen pushed his glasses away and rubbed his eyes. This might turn out to be more frustrating than he anticipated.

"Heliopaths?" Luna just nodded and continued to stare at him with her keen grey eyes. After a minute of silence, she smiled and indulged Harry's unasked but obvious question.

"Heliopaths. The fire spirits, Harry." Her smile got bigger. "They came and burned everything and I was no longer sad because mom was dead."

Harry forced down a choke as his thoughts turned to Sirius.

"How do I summon these fire spirits? Do I need to catch them?"

Luna reached and patted him on the hand. There was no sympathy or pity in her gaze, only understanding and magic.

"Oh, no, Harry. They come to you when they decide it's time."

"How do I…" Harry took a deep breath and pushed back his frustration and pain, locked them together with his sadness and helplessness somewhere in the corner of his mind, and forced the anger out of his voice. "How do I know it's the time?"

"It's rather simple, Harry. You start living and the time doesn't matter anymore. They come and they leave and you won't notice them until one day you wake up and you're no longer sad." She lifted her head and gently tugged the twigs and the tangles from her hair.

"Live?" He echoed. "But I'm already living, Luna."

She started braiding her hair, adding in black hair that Harry had the suspicion it was from a thestral.

"No, you're not. You're simply surviving." Her eyes never left his even when she finished her braid and started a new one.

That was not true, Harry wanted to argue with her.

"But it is." Apparently he had spoken out-loud. "Everything you do, you do so that you can wake up tomorrow. Your joy is fleeting, the same as your happiness. You do the minimum so that you can survive, never more, never less. There's no point in your living, Harry, because it's not living, it's surviving. Nothing you do lasts, the things you learn, you learn because they will help you survive. When have you learned something for the sake of learning it? When was the last time you woke up and decided that today is going to be a good day? When have you done something because you _desired_ so? _Because you wished to and not because you had to?_

_It's not true_, he wanted to scream at her. There was Quidditch and the DA. There were his friends and the Weasley family. And the stuff he learned during the years at Hogwarts were things he had wanted to learn. The stuff he bought he did because he wanted them and the adventures he went to was something he pursued himself.

But there was this little voice in his head that refuted everything. _Quidditch doesn't last and you do it because it connects you to your father. DA happened because you lacked a decent DADA Professor and your friends expected you to take lead. Your lessons are mandatory for everybody in the school but you never read something you didn't have to just because you were curious about it, except Quidditch related books. Your adventures, if you can call them that, was something you felt obligated to do because no adult would listen to you, it wasn't really your wish. Your friends are probably the only real thing you have. Material things never mattered to you anyway._

Harry closed his eyes and let his head hit the ground. His pent-up anger left him and he was left alone with his jumbled thoughts. Was Luna right? More importantly, did it matter if she was?

No, it didn't.

"That changes nothing." His voice was flat and emotionless. Because really, it didn't.

"Of course it does, Harry. Now you know and you can start actually living." Luna smiled at him, that brilliant, infectious happy smile that some other time would have made him smile too.

"No, it doesn't. I either kill Voldemort or he kills me. There's no middle ground."

"You don't have to be the person that-"

Harry leaped to his feet and paid no attention to the less than happy foal. "But I have to. The bloody Prophecy said so. It's either me or him at the end. Don't you see? I just have to survive. And after that… I'll start thinking about living."

Luna's hands let go of her hair and she let them drop lifelessly in her lap. She watched him for a long moment and still her gaze held no accusation or judgment.

"Then you're already dead and he has won."

Harry froze. "What?"

"When you live, you live for the others and survive for yourself. Prophecies can be broken, forgotten or fulfilled. Your fate is not set in stone, Harry."

"This is not something I can escape. And I'm not going to leave knowing that somebody can suffer from _his_ hand because I turned out to be a coward."

"The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem. Do you understand?" The foal snuggled on top of their cloaks and Luna started running her fingers through his dark mane.

Harry shook his head and started pacing.

"When you fight him" Harry noticed that she hadn't said 'if', "you should do it because you _want_ to, not because you feel you _have_ to. When you protect your friends you should do so because you _want_ to, not because you feel _obligated_ to do so because they're suffering from their proximity with you. Everything has to come down to _your_ wishes, wants and desires, to _your_ decisions and mistakes, to _you._ Yes, there's a Prophecy, and yes, it says you have to kill him. But if you go out there, fighting him because you think that's the right thing, because _you_ _wish_ to bring him down and not because you feel accountable for his actions or acting because a Seer had predicted that _you have to be the one_… it will make such a difference, Harry, for everyone, but most of all for you."

He stopped pacing.

"Because it shall no longer be a duty." Her eyes sparkled again. "It will be your will."

And Harry chose to believe her.

There was so much to think about, to process and consider but Harry already could feel the heavy weight of the Prophecy lessening. It was still there and he knew he had a responsibility no matter what Luna had said but it was somewhere at the back of his mind, making space for the new decisions and ideas he was coming up with.

Would it really be such a great difference if he did stuff because he really wanted to and not because he felt pressured to do them? No, they wouldn't change that much but his attitude will, and the way he viewed problems. And sometimes one turn could change your whole life.

Harry flopped next to his Ravenclaw friend and once again stretched on the ground.

"So, um, this living thing… how do I do it?" His gaze left her face and went up, watching the clouds and seeing million shapes in them, million decisions and ways. He missed her smile.

"But you're already doing it." Her voice was soft and strangely real-like, missing that dreamy quality that made people call her 'Loony'.

The dark-haired teen started laughing. He really couldn't help it, the whole conversation had been so absurd and now this. He kept on until his stomach protested and his eyes leaked tears. Suddenly he realized how tired and drained he felt. But he was also in peace with his decision and his supposed destiny. Come tomorrow he was going to start looking up different books that would help him, he would go to Madam Pomfrey and ask about Healing Spells, they should come in handy, he was also planning on taking his broom for a ride just for the sake of flying and probably he would try to talk to Hermione. He had time to decide if he should continue stalking Malfoy and how to deal with Snape. It wouldn't be easy, it never had been, but it was something Harry _wanted_ to do. And that made all the difference to him.

"Hey, Luna?" Harry turned to face her after he got rid of his tear stains.

"Hm?" For somebody else she would have looked ridiculous. For Harry she was familiar and warm, she was magic and affection, a bundle of ludicrous sayings and probably non-existent magical creatures, she was her dirigible plum earrings and her shocking orange jumper, she was wisdom and strength and so much more. She had become one of his closest friends and well…

"Come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?"

She blinked and peered at him. "As a classmate or a friend?"

"As a classmate, as a friend, as something more. We have time to decide what we want, right?"

She laughed and her hair seemed like a halo. "See? I told you, you're already living ."

Few weeks later Harry decided that yes, living was better than simply surviving. He was on good terms with his friends again, he learned things because he was curious about them, he had a strange but never boring girlfriend and his heart didn't ache that much when he was thinking about Sirius. Maybe the Heliopaths had something to do with that.

And he was no longer lost.

* * *

This was way more philosophical and less romantic than my other one-shots (not that they're really romantic to begin with :D) but to be honest this is how I imagine a serious conversation with Luna would turn out.

Tell me how you like it.

I'm open to good songs/artists/bands suggestions. Also, I used a Captain Jack Sparrow line in here. Did you noticed it?

And! The poll is still on but from the next update this story will be considered Harry/somebody. Cheers!

-M.


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